


A return to blood roots

by Serena90



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Creature Fic, Draco centric, Dragons, M/M, Mpreg, Pureblood Culture, Pureblood Society, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Submissive Draco, Time Travel, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-03-03 03:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2836298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serena90/pseuds/Serena90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Malfoy Family has become weak. The once powerful warriors have become skilled politicians, but their skills aren't enough to free themselves of the Dark Lord. Draco Malfoy will change this. He will learn the ancient warrior skills of his family.</p><p>Unfortunately, his ritual doesn't work as expected and Draco Malfoy finds himself in ancient times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Draco Malfoy saw his Patriarch cower and kiss the heel of the Dark Lord's robes, he had a revelation. Lucius Malfoy was weak. In fact, he determined as he felt fear course through his body, the last generations of Malfoys were weak. Very skilled in the political arena, extremely agile in the corporate environment, but useless in battle.

The fearsome and powerful warriors of the old times had adapted to restricting their wars to the Wizengamot. Every member of the parliament knew better than to mess with a Malfoy: they would be bribed, blackmailed or threatened into appropriate behaviour. Yes, they were very accomplished politicians; especially considering the harsh blow the Family Name had received when his Father was accused of being a Death Eater.

Their talent wasn’t just restricted to politics, they knew how to identify stalkers, kidnappers, hired mercenaries, all sorts of poisons and dispose of possible threats. However, what was needed now was a strong leader, a warrior. Someone who could become the Paterfamilias, look at the Dark Lord in the eye and proclaim that Malfoys weren’t followers but allies, someone to protect the Family and the honour of the line.

Draco knew he wasn’t that person. But he could become that person. It was in his blood, he just had to find a connection to the generations of ruthless mages who had destroyed entire cities and conquered countless lands. So while his whole family whimpered and grovelled at the Dark Lord’s feet, he holed up in the library.

The Malfoy Heir was nothing if not perseverant as his long time obsession with Potter could confirm. When his Ancestral Family Manor became the Dark Lord’s headquarters, he stayed in the library. When his dungeons were used to house prisoners who were in his same year at school, he stayed in the library. When the Death Eaters who had invaded his home mocked him calling him weak and coward, he stayed in the library.

Once he found what he had been looking for, he informed his parents he was going to France to not raise suspicions since he did spend a month in France every year. His mother looked particularly relieved at the announcement. So the young Slytherin ordered the house-elves to fill the black trunk with all his things, he worded it with care making sure they would pack all his things but if someone pointed it out, he could say the house-elves had been overzealous.

The same afternoon, he went to Gringotts and drained his account which consisted on his Trust Fund, his Black vault and his Malfoy Heir vault, putting all the money, jewels and heirlooms in the last compartment of his trunk. Once back in the Manor, he made sure all his belongings were in the trunk; every book, every trinket and every robe. He pressed the button that made it shrink until it was no bigger than a nail and he hid it inside his medallion, which had a secret compartment inside.

Then he headed downstairs to speak with his Father in his office. His Patriarch was studying some documents on his enormous desk with a focused expression. Since the Dark Lord had come into their home, his father, who was young for a wizard, seemed to have aged two decades. Although, Draco supposed it wasn’t only the constant worry that aged the Death Eater, the numerous punishments from the Dark Lord had probably damaged his Father’s body.

“Father”, he greeted his diminished Patriarch respectfully, after all, he had been raised in the Old Ways.

“Draco”, responded Father, raising his silver eyes from the papers on his desk.

“I wished to speak with you in private”, he explained simply, letting his father know to cast the necessary spells to avoid their conversation being overheard.

Father's severe eyes narrowed and he discreetly waved his dark wand, casting complicated wordless spells that would lead anyone listening in to think they were chattering about inane matters. The Malfoy Heir approached his Paterfamilias eagerly, until he stood in front of the enormous Victorian desk.

“What is this, Draco? You know we can't take any risks right now”, the adult wizard scolded him sternly.

“I know, Father, but I wish to take some of the heirlooms with me”, he stated simply, his face impassive as he had been taught from a young age.

Lord Malfoy's eyes widened almost unperceptively at the bold request, “Do you believe it wise?” the wizard questioned, scepticism clear in his voice.

Jeopardising the safety of their heirlooms was, indeed, generally an unwise course. Even so, Draco believed the circumstances merited it. The Dark Lord relied heavily on the Malfoys’ fortune and he was a threat to the heirlooms the Family had accumulated for thousands of years. He wouldn’t let that wizard touch any other heirloom of their family.

“Their safety isn’t assured in Malfoy Manor anymore. This war is already dilapidating our vaults at Gringotts and he's already found use to some of our heirlooms, how long do you think it will take him to squander all of them? The heirlooms you choose shall be transported to a… safer venue”, Draco answered calmly.

“What makes you believe that you could protect them better than I would?” inquired icily his Patriarch.

“I'll hide them in Malfoy Fortress”, he replied, his confidence in the hiding place clear in his posture.

His Paterfamilias stilled, staring at him seriously, “Are your plans to spend this month in Malfoy Fortress instead of France?”

“Yes, Father”, the young blond, answered.

There was a pause of silence in the conversation. His Father was contemplating Draco’s proposal. In most cases, it would be unthinkable to trust such important items to a young, unprepared member of House Malfoy. Such desperate courses of action were only taken as extreme measures; when they were invaded. But hadn’t their ally, the Dark Lord, betrayed them and invaded their home?

“Draco, there's a reason our family moved to Malfoy Manor two hundred of years ago. Malfoy Fortress is rather... temperamental. It's a violent semi sentient building. Is it truly your wish to spend your summer there?” questioned coldly the Death Eater.

“Yes, Father. Malfoy Fortress would never be invaded”, he responded, knowing Father would complete the sentence with 'it would never be breached by Death Eaters; the Fortress would kill them first. Not like Malfoy Manor which has surrendered to the Dark Lord'.

The Malfoy Patriarch thought in silence for some long seconds, weighting the pros and cons of this decision. Finally, he nodded decisively and stood to lead his Heir into the secret chamber that held the most important heirlooms of the Malfoy Family. Draco had only been there thrice in his life, when he was six and the magic accepted him as the Malfoy Heir, when he was eleven since it was the age their magic started to define and grow and when he was fourteen which was when he could be emancipated.

They passed numerous wards and a confusing array of secret passages to get to the huge chamber. The experience had never been agreeable with Draco. The different wards made the entire way seem hazy and undefined, so as to prevent mind intruders learning of the chamber’s location. To Draco’s well-constructed mind, it was a most upsetting experience.

Inside the secret chamber, the most incredible heirlooms of their line resided; amulets with strong undetectable glamour spells that changed your appearance completely, rings that protected the mind from invasion, gems that amplified all sorts of magicks, armours that could resist the deadliest spells, ancient books... For a few minutes, the blond pureblood just stood in awe of the quantity of magical items his family had amassed over the years.

As a pureblood of the Old Ways, Draco had been raised learning of his House’s prowess. His fairy tales had been stories of his ancestors and his lullabies songs of ancient Malfoy love stories or war stories. However, his House’s age and strength was never more evident than when he looked at the amassed treasures his Family had gathered through the centuries.

Draco took out his white gold medallion, which pictured the Family Crest of the House of Malfoy. At least, it had the last renovated version that came from the eighteenth century. Through the years, the dragon in their coat of arms had become more and more serpentine until the eighteenth century dragon looked more like a winged snake.

He opened the locket’s secret compartment, taking out a second trunk he had prepared hoping Lord Malfoy would allow him to take away some of their heirlooms. As his Father pointed out heirlooms, he was slightly surprised by the sheer amount his Patriarch wanted him to hide away. After all, most of these items were priceless and it was strange to be trusted with objects so valuable. Nevertheless, he supposed his Paterfamilias didn't have much choice. It was either trust him to carry them to safety or eventually relinquishing them to the Dark Lord. A decision that no pureblood proud of their legacy wished to ever do.

Once he had gathered all the heirlooms to be spirited away, they returned to Father's office. It was with fascination as Draco watched his Patriarch erase his memory of the heirlooms they had chosen. It took high skill in Occlumency for a wizard to safely delete memories. It was necessary to delete those memories to avoid the Dark Lord ever learning of their existence, even if the Dark Lord raped his Father’s mind, he would never know of them.

As soon as his Father was finished dabbling with his memories, Draco was allowed to leave the office. He made sure to prepare well for the trip to Malfoy Fortress and gave a heartfelt farewell to his parents as he left Malfoy Manor.

 

Malfoy Fortress was as unwelcoming as he had expected. The wards recognized his blood and let him pass; yet Draco had the distinct impression that they considered him unworthy of being the Heir of the Family. It wasn't odd, though, considering Malfoy Fortress appreciated warriors and Draco was no warrior.

The blond wizard quickly went to one of the ritual chambers; he knew he was cutting it close having only four hours to prepare the ritual. But the discovery of the spell, devising the ritual and defining the ideal time to complete it had taken hours upon hours of research. Furthermore, the best next date was one month and a half later.

He cleaned the chamber using as little magic as possible to avoid the contamination of the magic of the ritual. Draco quickly made the potion he used later to draw the pertinent symbols. He placed the seven crystals that would amplify the power of the ritual, in order to reduce the amount of magic it would demand from him. He put the three offerings in their appropriate places. He bathed with the correct potion to purge himself of foreign magic and dressed himself in an expensive set of traditional robes, finding it fitting.

Once it was time, he stood in his place readying himself to start the ritual. In his research, he had discovered a spell that allowed someone to have impressions of his ancestors. Draco had gone a step further and devised a whole ritual that would allow him to turn those impressions into blocks of memories that would be transmitted to him. Of course, he had limited which memories since his brain didn't have the capacity to remember hundreds of lives. His objective was to receive the memories of how their offensive and defensive magicks were done to gain an edge over Voldemort. Even the Dark Lord wouldn't know about wards or curses from hundreds of years ago.

His medallion heated against his porcelain skin, alerting him that it was time to begin. Draco undid the alarm spell and inhaled deeply before starting the spell. He didn't know what would happen if he were to mess it up. He started chanting, his eyes closed as he focused on the flux of magic he could feel. Everything was going as planed when the Malfoy Heir felt foreign magic intruding in the ritual.

The magic was from the Malfoy Fortress. It wasn’t unusual for the ritual to use ambient magic. In fact, he had planned to use this location because the magic of the Fortress would power up his own spell. Yet, this wasn’t ambient magic, this magic had intent. He couldn't recognize its purpose, although he knew it wasn't harmful. He bit his lower lip; he couldn't stop now. If he stopped the magic of the ritual would turn against him and he didn't want to become a squib. He only hoped that the foreign magic wouldn't muck up the ritual, he had no wish to end up dead.

The magic flow started to accelerate, circling Draco and growing in girth. The blond started to pant as he continued chanting, the ritual was leeching more magic from him than expected which made no sense because it had taken more than expected from the Fortress too.

He could feel his body growing weak while his magical reserves were rapidly consumed. He started to feel lightheaded and his body started to sway. He opened his silver eyes to try to focus, but the stream of colours from the magic flow only made him dizzy. Small dots of black appeared in his vision. His knees bucked and he fell to the hard floor. Finally, he lost consciousness.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Draco furrowed into the comfortable pillow, sighing in contentment at the cosy warmth he was surrounded with. His blond eyelashes fluttered as he sleepily opened his silver eyes. He drowsily rubbed his eyes with his slender right hand while he sat up. The familiar magic around him was distinctly that of Malfoy Fortress. The stone floor was covered in a thick Persian carpet that seemed to encompass the entire room and was coloured with rich burgundy, dark blue and beige. The four-post bed was made in similar colours as well as the curtains surrounding it that were opened only in on the left side of the bed.

He frowned wondering how he had ended up there. He doubted the Fortress or its house-elves would be motherly enough to tuck him in and, his frown deepened, change his clothes into a linen night robe. Gingerly the beautiful Slytherin stepped out of the bed and looked to the elegant room as a whole for the first time. There was an enormous fireplace that was currently harbouring a fire and a mahogany night table on the other side of the bed with an everlasting candle on it. The weak sunlight that came from the small windows indicated it was daytime.

The fair-haired wizard was startled out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. It was impossible! The only habitants of the Fortress were a couple of house-elves who wouldn't knock. Had someone intruded the fortress? But it was impossible! Its magic was too strong even after being consumed by the ritual. Yet, there was someone behind the door and his magic reserves were too depleted to do anything about it. And they were knocking, if they were intruders they wouldn't knock, would they?

Now that he thought about his weak state, his legs trembled, making him return to the bed. He dived under the blankets and put his pillows in place so that he could sit up comfortably. He laid his hands on his lap, inhaled and exhaled deeply to regain some calm. He then put on an unaffected mask.

“You may come in”, he said faking a serene voice.

A witch who looked round seventy or a squib on her late fifties came in (wizards aged better and had longer lives than any creature without magic). Her brown hair streaked with white framed her round and pale face. She had a kind albeit weary face, like someone who had had many hardships yet remained tenderhearted. She was dressed in green traditional middle class robes, not of poor quality but not outstanding either.

A young man in his twenties who carried a box who resembled a healer's coffret followed her. In the Old times, healers would carry their potions and herbs there. The pale redhead was gangly and stood awkwardly next to who seemed to be his mentor; he too was dressed in traditional robes, although his were humbler. The pair seemed to have stepped out of one of the books his tutor in Old History would show him when he was younger, explaining to him how wizards lived in the Old times. If he were guided by those lessons, this would be a healer due to the green shade of her robe and coffret, while the young wizard was her apprentice.

The pair bowed to the height one would to greet someone above your position but not a Lord or a Heir of a House, “Sir”

Draco responded with a curt nod to acknowledge them. There were very few people who still followed the old traditions, most of them were the descendants of the Old Houses. He studied them critically, what had made a middle class healer and a young wizard decide to live by them? He had had no choice as he was raised surrounded by these customs and educated by his tutors and parents this way, not that he regretted following them.

“I am Healer Reid, under the command of his grace, the Duke of Malfoy and this is my apprentice, young Colby Middleton”, she introduced herself.

The blond carefully hid his surprise. They were under the command of the Duke of Malfoy, but he somehow doubted they meant his father or him. They were the only surviving members of their House, but people had stopped using that title long ago which, considering the ritual he had been doing, meant... He wasn't in his time. He was in the Old times. It certainly explained his utter exhaustion and why the ritual had sucked the Malfoy Fortress' magic. Why would Malfoy Fortress send him here? How could he go back?

How did he even understand them? The Old Tongue was no longer truly spoken; even a traditionalist like Draco only knew enough of it to use it in rituals and greetings. Wizards had gradually stopped using the Old Tongue and started to speak the simpler languages such as Latin and later on English. It was bewildering to realise he was speaking in another language without even realising it. The Old Tongue also carried more power than Latin or English; he would have to be careful with it. There was a reason wizards had stopped speaking it in a day to day basis.

He bit the inside of his mouth. While the language problem was interesting, he was in a dangerous position. He had to focus on what it mattered. He was in the past. He had to make sure he wasn’t seen as a threat, yet was offered hospitality.

They would ask about his identity, what should he say? At least it was obvious they thought he was somebody, because otherwise he wouldn't be in such a luxurious bedroom nor would he have a healer looking after him. His hand instinctively wrapped around his medallion, it had the Malfoy crest in it but in this time the crest was different. He could say it represented another House. But none had been extinguished by that time at least to his knowledge... what to do? He needed more time but the healer was starting to wonder at his silence.

“The Duke of Malfoy?”, he enquired politely.

“He is the Paterfamilias of the House of Malfoy, sir. The House of Malfoy owns this land and is well known for their affinity to dragons. Some people call them dragon riders, sir”, explained the Healer looking surprised he hadn't heard of the Malfoys.

Dragon riders? He had really gone back in time, Malfoys hadn't been able to control dragons for hundreds of years. The Malfoys from this era had taken some of the dragon blood into their own line, which allowed them to bond with dragons and control them. Although he had been told the legends as a young child, he had never thought they were actually true, he had thought they were merely glorified to amuse a little wizard with a fascination for dragons. He had noticed, though, when he visited dragon reserves that dragons didn't react to him as badly as they would a wizard.

His father sometimes had whispered into his ear that they had dragon blood but... when he grew up, he dismissed the idea. He had known he had veela blood, it had granted their family good looks with their porcelain skin and platinum hair. He had known they had a bit of siren in them that gave them their unique silver eyes and silky voices. However, those were humanoid creatures, they could reproduce with wizards.

“Indeed, am I to assume I am in Malfoy territory?”, asked Draco.

“Yes, sir. You were found in the forest near the castle and the Duke of Malfoy granted you residence”, confirmed the healer, “your magic reserves were drained so the Duke of Malfoy assigned my services to you. The Duke of Malfoy will like to know the identity of his guest, mister...?”

He couldn’t really lie. He was too afraid to lie speaking in the Old Tongue. However, he was still a Slytherin and a modern Malfoy, he could twist the truth. He could speak only the truth and imply other things. He thought carefully of how to phrase it. He could say his name, but saying his surname was out. He also couldn’t say he was a Black, since his mother’s family was Old as well. Therefore, he couldn’t say any of his bloodlines without arousing suspicion.

The best course would be to say no House at all. How could he justify that? The Old times were troubled times. There had been great struggles of power between the houses; entire houses had been wiped out. Some Houses had gone into hiding. In fact, entire communities had gone into hiding. Draco had no doubt that even in his day; some of those Houses were still living in unplottable land with no interaction with the exterior for thousands of years.

That could be his excuse. Malfoy Manor was in unplottable land, even though it wasn’t part of a secret, unplottable community. However, the wording would be essential here. He had to dissuade further questioning, how could he do that? If he spoke his true surname, there would be terrible consequences for him. The Malfoy would surely take offense and… That was it!

“Draconis, I’m afraid my family resides in unplottable land and I can speak very little of it without consequences”, he stated.

“The Duke of Malfoy will be informed. Your magic reserves are severely depleted, sir, it will make you experience feebleness and the occasional dizziness. I will provide you with a blue potion every morning that will reduce these symptoms. You have been asleep for two weeks, but your recovery will require at least another week of bed rest until your magic is outside of dangerous low levels for a wizard of your magic core. After that, I recommend to rest for most of the day but you could walk for ten minutes a day for a week, increasing to ten minutes in the morning and ten minutes in the afternoon for the third week”

This was worst than he had thought; he must have truly been in danger of dying if he had been in a magical coma for two weeks. Even worse, after those two weeks, his magic levels were _still_ dangerously low. It would take very long for a wizard of Draco’s core to fulfil his core again. There were a few rituals that could help slightly, yet even they required a healthier core than Draco’s at the moment.

Draco smiled weakly, “I see”

“Your reserves should be back to almost normal in five months if you don't cast any spells. It would take longer, but Samhain is in four months and it will aid your recovery”

He nodded in sincere gratitude. The healer and her assistant left, leaving Draco to ponder on what to do in the past. Malfoy Fortress had interfered with his ritual to send him to this specific time. He had wanted to become a true warrior and it had send it to the past, in troubled times. Surely this meant he was here to learn how to become a warrior? It would take time, especially since he needed to recover his normal magic levels. However, this had potential. He had no time limitations in the past. He could grow and become a great warrior and then return to his timeline as a strong heir against Voldemort. As the Malfoy Heir rested against his pillows, his silver eyes closing despite himself, he could only feel relief.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	3. Chapter 3

After the healer's visit Draco promptly fell asleep. He woke up slowly, his mind sluggish from his magical exhaustion. Even in his drowsy state of mind, his silver eyes were instantly drawn to the powerful figure standing next to his bed, observing him. He was tall and broad. It was definitely a wizard; the platinum blond could almost see his strong magic glow.

Although he looked to be in his mid twenties he could be even fifty; the more powerful a wizard, the slower his ageing occurred. And according to his ability to feel magic, the only person whose power compared was his Headmaster's and he couldn't even be sure since the magics felt different. The stranger's magic was more intense, untamed albeit controlled. His hair was black, shining a dark green under the candles' light, and his eyes were a metallic golden, his pupils were slit. He was a Malfoy.

“Draconis”, greeted him the wizard with a deep husky voice.

The younger wizard tried to sit up, but his elder put a stern hand on his shoulder pushing him back into the bed. The pale boy flinched in surprise when their body's connected, the alien magic caressing the point of their joint. He hadn't been prepared for that since he hadn't expected his ancestor to actually touch him. The blond beauty rested back into the bed, looking up to the other Malfoy, trying to mask the uncertainty in his silver eyes. His ancestor was being awfully familiar with him, calling him by his first name and touching him. Although he supposed the other wizard didn’t have a surname to call him.

“I am Kendrick Malfoy, Heir of House Malfoy. I was the one who found you, Draconis”, introduced himself confidently the other man, his eerie golden eyes were trained on the Slytherin who resisted the urge to fidget under the scrutiny.

The wizard’s intense gaze made the young Malfoy to wonder exactly _where_ the other had found him. If he had been found in the Malfoy Fortress, it would explain some of the intensity in his ancestor’s eyes. Malfoy Fortress was impenetrable in all the sense of the word, it would more than strange for a person to have sneaked in. However, he doubted that a warrior from the Old Times’ reaction upon seeing an intruder was to get him medical attention. A warrior was likelier to slay the intruder without any hesitation.

“I thank you for your aid, my lord, I am deeply grateful for your help. Had you not brought me here I wouldn't have survived, sir”, he thanked the older wizard sincerely.

He was rather formal, even though the older wizard had taken quite a few liberties. Nonetheless, he owed him a life debt so he supposed it was the least he could do. Even though it was obvious the other was a warrior, especially from the dragon hide armour that was peeking under the neck of his rich robes that allowed mobility so maybe he was used to being curt. After all, warriors were known to be rather abrupt, especially when they were used to a position of leadership. They were used to spitting orders and having them followed instantly and to the smallest detail.

“It was no hardship”, dismissed the warrior carelessly, staring at Draco.

The blond tilted his head to stare at him in confusion more comfortably since the other was quite tall and he was laying down, the wizard from the Old Times wasn't saying anything, yet he wasn't leaving either. Why had the other come? As the Malfoy Heir he had a lot of duties, so why would he waste his free time visiting him? Did he suspect his story?

Had he truly been found inside the Malfoy Fortress? But that couldn’t be, he wouldn’t be alive if that had been the case no matter his state of unconsciousness. He analysed the man’s appearance. His skin was slightly dried, like one who had been subjected to sea winds. Malfoy Manor was close to the sea, only a day by Abraxans. It was likely that the wizard had found him on patrol around the Malfoy territory. At least, that was what he hopped. He should subtly inquire to the healer. His ancestor seemed sharp enough to detect something out of place in the innocent question.

He scrutinized the strong and handsome face, trying to get some insight in the other's intentions, yet the stoic expression gave away no clues. The older wizard held his stare until Draco could no longer look into the eerily metallic golden eyes that swirled with what seemed to be pure magic and intent. The time traveller heard muted steps coming closer to his enormous bed. He started to raise his silver only to see uncomprehending as the other leaned forward, his hand suddenly cupping Draco's soft cheek.

“Saving such a beautiful wizard as yourself would never be a hardship, Draconis”, stated the warrior, his low voice rumbling deep in his chest and ultimately seductive.

The fair-haired Slytherin felt his cheeks heat and he blushed, lowering his silver eyes bashfully before he could control his reaction. This was inconceivable! He managed to control his reaction when he found out he was hundreds of years into the past and yet he blushed like a virgin maiden when he was complimented. The other's thumb stroked his pink cheek gently despite being slightly coarse from holding weapons like swords.

The lithe wizard resisted the urge to nibble his lower pink lip in anxiety, a habit his Father had worked hard to make him abandon. His Father didn’t tolerate such unbecoming behaviour from Draco. His feelings at the thought of his proud Father went from uncertainty to anger. How dare the other mock him in such way? He defiantly twisted his face out of the dragon rider's hold.

“Sir Kendrick, please say no more of this talk”, he responded sternly, his back stiff with dignity as his silver eyes raged.

Golden eyes studied his reaction carefully and the warrior nodded sharply in acceptance not protesting, backing away from the luscious bed and adopted a distant and almost professional stance. The body language that had been so inviting and seductive for Draco seconds ago went to unapproachable and haughty. In return, the beautiful blond regained his composure.

“Healer Reid said that you were unable to inform us of your background”, declared the dark haired wizard, pausing to allow the other to explain in an attempt to manipulate the other into filling the silence with more information that would be given otherwise.

The Ice Prince refused to feel uncomfortable by the awkward silence and only repeated his earlier lie, “That it's true my family is under a spell, not unlike the Fidelius”

He paused in his thoughts. He knew the Fidelius was the new version of an older spell, yet he didn’t know how the magic that allowed him to speak and understand the Old Tongue worked. There was recognition in Heir Malfoy’s face, however he very much doubted they were speaking about the same version of the spell. Did the magic automatically change his words to the closest thing in the Old Tongue? That could be dangerous since he didn’t know what connotations some words could carry. Draco was fluent in both English and French and he knew how some words held different connotations regardless of supposedly meaning the same thing.

“I see, so will you contact your family or will you wait until you're recuperated to return?” inquired the warrior, his golden eyes revealing a weird flash of emotion for less than a second, not long enough to interpreter it with confidence, enough to know the other really desired an answer.

He felt a flash of longing at the thought of his parents, away not by distance but by years. Draco had all the confidence that he would _somehow_ be able to return to his time once he had learnt all what he needed. However, there was a small fear that he would be stuck in the past where he knew no one and where he didn’t even have his House to support him.

He thought of what to reply to the other wizard and folded his hands on his lap primly. His sharp silver eyes focused on the powerful warrior in front of him. He didn’t want to display weakness. He doubted the brutal warrior from the Old Times would appreciate weakness. Yet he did need the Malfoy’s haven, at least until his magic was back to normal levels. He almost shivered at thinking of being defenceless, without magic in such an uncivilised time.

“I am afraid I am unable to contact my family since I no longer have the location in my mind, I'll have to stay here until I can find a way to... reconnect”, was his ambiguous reply, since he didn't know how to get back to the future.

The golden eyes flashed with satisfaction. It was worrying. The Malfoy Heir seemed to lust after him, not an unusual reaction as Draco did have veela and siren blood coursing through his veins. Kendrick’s interest could be a great inconvenience. He hoped his rejection had made it clear to the other that he had no interest in any dalliances. Draco was a Malfoy, he would have a true bonding when he married and the ritual required him to be a virgin. He had no interest in losing his ability to have a true bond with his spouse to cater to some wizard warrior.

“Indeed, well, the Duke of Malfoy will offer his hospitality as long as you need it”, affirmed the dragon rider although he didn't look particularly welcoming or accepting in countenance, his tone was a bit too warm.

Draco resisted the urge to narrow his silver eyes in response. He wasn’t going to give the Malfoy Heir any emotional response. Although he was displeased with the man’s presumptions, he couldn’t exactly antagonise him. The danger of his position really dawned up on him. He was alone, in the past, with no House to protect him and no magic to defend himself. He would have died had it not been for the Malfoys of the past and he was sure in the wilderness of the Old Times without them. The Old Times were too violent, even the very magic in the air was more aggressive than what Draco was accustomed to.

“And I thank the Malfoy Family for their hospitality, Sir Kendrick”, answered Draco with excessive sweetness in his voice.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay updating! To make up for it, the chapter is a bit longer than usual ;)

Draco felt exhausted and he had only taken a few steps. He sat down on the bed, frustration colouring his fair face. A pureblood wizard was pure magic: there was magic in their blood, their skin, even their hair! Magical exhaustion affected such wizards more strongly than it would muggleborns. His body was used to being brimming with magic, its sudden absence made his body feel faint, his mind was suffering as well; he felt constantly tired.

At least his magic core was at a healthier level, he could stay awake for longer and longer every time and a few days ago he wouldn’t have dreamt of actually walking! It was the sixth week of his stay in Malfoy Fortress, under House Malfoy’s hospitality. To their credit, Draco hadn’t been disturbed with visitors during his convalescence, even though he was sure their court was highly curious as to the secretive wizard who had appeared out of thin air in the Malfoy’s domain.

Draco had tried to take advantage of the brief bouts of awareness between slumber to learn of Ancient House Malfoy’s ways and his situation there. Heir Malfoy had found him in the Malfoy’s domains close to the sea. Apparently, Heir Malfoy was in charge of their military and frequently patrolled their borders on his _dragon_. The Malfoys of this time were truly bonded with dragons and fierce in battle.

Dragons had a hefty price, a price was being paid even in Draco’s generation: infertility. Indeed, the mixing of dragon blood with wizard blood, regardless of its magic, wasn’t easy. No matter how fertile, Malfoy consorts struggled to conceive a child of dragon blood. It was a great danger to House Malfoy, especially in these warring times. The single child was more accepted in Draco’s civilised times, as it avoided the splitting up of inheritance. In the Old Times, it put House Malfoy in a very precarious position. It was what had driven House Malfoy to be as vicious and ruthless in the battlefield as they were, to discourage their enemies.

Although the translation, that Draco still had no explanation for, gave House Malfoy the title of Dukedom, the Malfoys weren’t under the influence of any monarch. Indeed, the Ancient Houses on the same level as House Malfoy weren’t under the power of any other House. There were some neighbouring Houses that proclaimed themselves Kings and Queens of their domains, such as House Falk, Kings of a small group of islands. There were many Houses that either hadn’t survived to Draco’s time or, more likely, had gone into hiding in the centuries between this time and the time traveller’s.

It had been an astonishing discovery to see a map of this ancient world. Draco knew that a map of Wizarding England looked different from that of Muggle England, as Wizarding England held quite a few unplottable lands. However, he had never thought that there could be such a difference with the Ancient times. His theory that to his day, there were groups of wizards living in secret in unplottable communities was looking increasingly likelier.

Draco was no cartographer, but even he could see could see a new island popping out of nowhere. Instead of the two main British Islands: Ireland and the island that contained England, Scotland and Wales; there was a third island. It wasn’t the mythical Avalon, though, apparently even in Ancient times it had disappeared years ago.

Once he had recovered from his shock, he had done his best to learn of the Houses that inhabited the different lands. Draco thanked Morgana for his cover story. It would have been impossible for him to feign all that knowledge, and his cover story gave him the perfect alibi for his lack of knowledge. If he had had to rely on his knowledge of the Ancient times, his questions would have aroused suspicion already. 

Due to his lack of visitors, he had made good use of his assigned human valet: a twelve-year-old boy named Athils. The valet was a wizard, although a weak one. Draco approved more of his mind; it was a sharp for such an uneducated youth. Athils was perceptive to the changes in atmosphere in court and relied the pertinent information to the time traveller. The young Slytherin made sure to be careful around him, he didn’t doubt that his valet was also a spy that gave information to the Malfoys. As a proud Malfoys of the twenty-first century, Draco only gave the information he wanted House Malfoy to learn.

“Lord Draco?” called out Athils, his brown eyes looking inquisitively at him from the door, “I have come to help you dress for your introduction”

The young Malfoy restrained a grimace; he didn’t like the thought of meeting the court while he was still so weak. However, he had little choice: he relied on House Malfoy’s hospitality and a polite note had given the strong suggestion that today he would have to introduce himself to Lord Malfoy, even if briefly due to his health. He had no choice and he was a Malfoy, he might feel weak but he would certainly not give away his weakness to any one else.

“Yes, I will wear the dark blue and silver robe and take the silver belt in the first drawer”, he instructed his valet, nodding towards the closet.

Despite his inability to cast magic for weeks, his locket and his trunks didn’t rely on his magic to activate. Therefore he had been able to take the trunk with his clothes out and place them in the closet. In the middle of the night, he had also opened the other trunk and carefully chosen a gift for his hosts. It was a gift worthy of a King; he knew Duke Malfoy would appreciate the gesture.

It had been hard to prepare for the introduction to court. He didn’t know the court or its situation and had been forced to rely on gossip to prepare. He had chosen a traditional robe in his House’s colours that proudly held his House’s crest. Purebloods prided in strength, even more so in Ancient Times. Draco might be a mystery, but he would remind the court that he was no weak wizard without House. His expensive gift and his presentation would make it clear that his House was rich and powerful and they didn’t wish to make enemies of Draco regardless of his current lack of magic and allies.

Athils opened the closet and started sorting through the clothes, finally he held a robe carefully, “Is this the robe you wish to wear, Lord Draco?”

It was lucky, and how Draco despised relying on _luck_ , that his House’s colours had changed in the thirteenth century and that his actual House crest resembled more a winged serpent than a dragon. If his closet were full with clothes in the ancient Malfoy colours and dragons, he would have been in more than a little trouble.

“Yes, Athils”, he answered the boy calmly, his hands folded primly over his lap. Even though he was still dressed in his under robes, he was the picture of aristocracy.

The young boy hurried to help him stand up and put on the beautiful tunic. Draco smiled slightly; he loved this formal robe for it was made of Acromantula silk, it was the softest fabric in the world. Athils seemed fascinated by the water-like texture, but his valet knew better than to ask him unrelated questions before his introduction to court. Afterwards, the weak wizard fastened the thin silver belt around his waist. Once he was dressed, his young servant helped him sit in front of his vanity.

“What would you like to wear today, Lord Draco?” inquired politely the twelve-year-old as he opened the leather jeweller. The Slytherin hid his smile at his valet’s expression of wonder as he looked at the priceless jewels set in velvet.

“The diamond and sapphire hair comb”, he instructed his servant.

His valet nodded and took out the beautiful jewelled hair comb, “How would you like your hair styled, sir?”

“Let it loose, but take the locks in front of my face and crisscross them at the back, there you will place the hair comb”, ordered Draco.

His valet started to brush his long blond hair with the young pureblood’s silver brush. He would never understand why the muggleborns thought that long hair was only for girls, the length of hair was a perfect way to distinguish amongst classes. In fact, his long locks indicated he was the Heir of his House. Although sometimes it was cumbersome, he did like it when people brushed it, it was a pleasurable sensation that filled him with calm. As the Slytherin had straight hair, the valet didn’t take long before he was placing the exquisite hair comb in his hair.

Athils then rushed to take Draco’s dark blue shoes from inside the closet and then helped him put them on. The Malfoy Heir stood up slowly as he studied his reflection: he was wearing almost the same outfit he had worn for the Yule gala last year. He looked like the Heir of a powerful House.

He hid a smile as he saw his servant’s fascinated face. The young boy had never seen a veela or siren in his life; Draco was probably the epitome of beauty to the unlearnt wizard. The Malfoy suspected that most of the people in court would be the same as, in a warring environment, Wizarding societies tended to be more insular. It was unlikely that any of the people in the court had seen people with creature magic in their veins, with the notable exception of the Malfoys of this time.

It would be a great advantage as beauty in wizards tended to be related to their power. A wizard’s magic corrected any defects; therefore powerful wizards were always attractive. Unless, they interfered with their magic with dark rituals, of course, Draco shuddered as he remembered the decrepit monster that was the Dark Lord. It had been disturbing to sense the incredible power behind that awful face.

“It is time”, he stated as he spared the mirror one last look, “Lead me to the court room, Athils, and don’t forget to take the coffer”

His young manservant hurried to grab the wooden coffer and offered his arm to Draco in an awkward attempt at gallantry. The blond resisted the urge to smile and took the arm; he was too weak to walk unaided for long. This was the best option to walk in public, even if he resented the need for assistance.

It was the first time he walked out of his chambers. He was unsurprised by the two guards in full armour that stood in front of his door. Athils had already explained that he had protection at the door. From what Draco understood, it wasn’t unusual for nobles to have guards at their door when staying in another’s domain.

Despite himself, he felt a spark of smug pleasure at the widening of the guards’ eyes when they rested upon him. Draco had always been a bit vain, a characteristic veela trait. The guards quickly regained their bearings and straightened to escort him. His façade remained serene as he was guided through the corridors; he was a Malfoy and would act with grace. There were some servants that saw him along the way and their expressions of wonder were simply gratifying.

Finally, they paused near a majestic doorway. There were several guards standing in front of it as well as a fat, short wizard. All of them paused at the sight of Draco. It was clearly the entrance to the court. The young Malfoy took his arm carefully away from his manservant, unwilling to display any sign of weakness in front of the court.

“I am Draco”, he stated simply as the guards let him pass without a word.

He felt a strand of fear grasp his heart right before he stepped into court. His survival in the Old Times depended on his ability to ingratiate himself with House Malfoy’s court. He had to be held in House Malfoy’s good graces, especially taking into account his weakened state. He couldn’t fail in this. He had no House to support him right now if he failed.

He breathed in and maintained a serene expression as he walked into where the court had gathered. He was fast to analyse his surrounding. It was a large room, rectangular with thick stone columns; the light came from large windows on the left side of the room. It was unusual for a fortress to have such big windows, but Draco supposed House Malfoy had little to fear from the air, as dragons protected them.

Duke Malfoy was sitting in a throne at the back of the room, casually speaking with another Malfoy. Duke Malfoy seemed older than his own father; in muggle years he would be fifty while he was probably seventy. The Malfoy he spoke with was his younger brother; Athils had mentioned he was his most trusted right hand. Heir Malfoy was standing next to his father, but a step bellow.

There were around fifty courtiers in the room, talking in small groups of four and five. As the blond had expected, their rank was clearly distinguishable by their clothing. There were the markings of minor Wizarding houses amongst them, none that were recognisable by his time, as minor houses tended to change. However, he had the information that Athils had relied to him.

As Draco observed the courtiers, he realised his mistake. The Malfoy Heir came from a time where most battles were in politics, but this was a time of warriors. The truly powerful were dressed as warriors, even if they wore no chainmail or armour inside.

Whereas he was dressed in sumptuous silk, his appearance resembled more that of the submissive partner in their marriages than that of a dominant, independent wizard. In his time, his appearance would make it clear that he was a powerful wizard from a powerful and rich House. In the Old Times, he looked like a beautiful young maiden of marriageable age coming to court for the first time.

He struggled to maintain his serene disposition; it took only seven steps into the room for the court to notice his entrance. This time, he felt no amusement as he saw the widening of their eyes as they took in his beauty.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	5. Chapter 5

A hushed silence fell over the courtroom. The young time-traveller could feel all the eyes in the room fixed on him. He felt only dread as he realised that they would all think him a maiden. It took Draco seven further steps into the room to realise that he could use this. His inner chants of what a disaster it was stopped abruptly. The part veela didn’t have the physical robustness of the warriors of this era; it was unlikely that even in another pair robes these warriors would have taken him for one of their own. It was better to be seen as a maiden, than as a weak and failed warrior.

This way he wouldn’t be the mysterious wizard that could be a threat. Instead of being a competitor and threat, he was now a prize to be won. He didn’t _like_ the idea. Draco was a powerful, independent wizard of his own right and he had never thought of being the submissive partner in marriage. However, right now he wasn’t powerful. He was and would be incapable of protecting himself for months. It was for the best if no one thought of him as a menace.

In Old Times, the division between the dominant partners and the submissive partners was stronger than in his own time. Unlike the ignorant muggles, wizards knew that witches could be just as powerful or even more powerful than their partners, not only in magic but in character as well.

That said, in Old Times, there was the ingrained idea that for a true marriage there was a dominant partner and a submissive partner. In these warring times, the dominant partner would be the warrior and the submissive partner would be the maiden. The maiden wasn’t necessarily a witch, just as the warrior wasn’t necessarily a wizard. The main idea was that the dominant partner would be in control of the household, while the submissive partner would bear the children.

In modern Wizarding times, the division between the dominant partner and the submissive wasn’t as strong. While Draco’s parents had a traditional marriage, where his father was the dominant partner that was the Head of the household and his mother took the more submissive role, there were plenty of marriages that were more equal in terms of handling the future of their House.

All conversation had stopped as the courtiers observed as the young wizard approached the throne where Duke Malfoy was seated. Draco breathed in slowly, maintaining a serene façade, just because they believed him to be maiden didn’t mean anything. He would go back to his time when he had learnt all he wanted and marry there. The illusion wouldn’t hurt him. In fact, it would help him.

If they had thought him a warrior, there would be aggression in the eyes of the court around him. Thankfully, as a maiden, their eyes were appraising. It was even unlikely that he would create enemies amongst the parents of other maidens; the highest honour was in marrying into the reigning house. Unfortunately, in this case it meant the Malfoys.

The Malfoys infertility problem didn’t make them an appealing prospect for any loving parent. From Athils’ information, it was well-known Malfoy consorts tended to die in childbirth. In this generation, Heir Malfoy’s mother died giving birth to him and Ragnvaldr, Duke Malfoy’s brother, had lost two wives to childbirth and had no living child. Draco was thankful that in his time, the fertility problem wasn’t as prominent; he shuddered to think of his mother in such danger.

He paused in front of the throne. He would now strengthen the illusion of being a maiden by curtsying. Draco had never curtsied before, although he had seen his female friends do it occasionally when introduced to an aristocratic wizard. His mind flashed to beautiful, elegant Daphne Greengrass.

The young time-traveller’s lips slipped into a soft, gentle smile and he gracefully fell into a deep curtsey. He said nothing, as the higher title was held by Duke Malfoy and therefore, Duke Malfoy ought to initiate the conversation. Duke Malfoy watched him impassively, he was wearing a heavy golden crown and his clothes were in green and gold, the colours of House Malfoy and their dragons. Now that Draco was closer he could feel the untamed power emanating from him and he was sure that his assumptions of his age were wrong. The wizard must be at least a century.

His counsellor, his brother Ragnvaldr seemed wary of him. There was distrust painted on the slight narrowing of his eyes. He would have to try to reassure the wizard, as Duke Malfoy did trust his brother’s council. Heir Malfoy, of course, was watching him with barely disguised desire in his golden eyes. The blond Malfoy avoided Kendrick’s eyes, unwilling to play into the seduction game. As he averted his silver eyes, he realised with a start that what he had assumed was dragon hide armour beneath the clothes of the Malfoys were actually _their_ scales. The Malfoys had no scales on their faces, but they had at least some scales on their necks.

“Young Draco, you were found by my son and Heir, Kendrick, in our lands. However, we know very little of where you come from or why you came here”, finally spoke Duke Malfoy, his voice cold.

The petite blond swallowed, he had not expected such open animosity on the first meeting. It was silly, considering the Old Times were warring times. He was too used to people disguising their animosity behind cold smiles and polite comments that wounded their opponent. If Duke Malfoy was this aggressive with a maiden, he wondered what the Dragon Lord would have done had he believed him a warrior.

“Duke Malfoy, I want to thank you and your House for your hospitality. Without your son’s aid, I wouldn’t have survived, I owe him a life debt”, he said with the most genuine voice and face he could manage and continued, “I arrived to your lands because of a magical mishap”

Draco paused, as he had to be very careful with his wording due to speaking in the Old Language that allowed no lies to be spoken. He would have to use misdirection to convey a story close to the truth; he would also use the fact that they believed him to be a maiden to his advantage. He knew it was considered chivalrous to protect a maiden and a source of shame for warriors to hurt one.

The Dragon Lord raised a sceptical eyebrow, “A magical mishap?”

“My house and many more live in unplottable land and have for centuries”, he said the implication was that several houses lived in unplottable land together, when Draco was thinking of many houses that lived in their own unplottable land.

“The different beliefs of our houses made our coexistence in the same world… difficult. Our society split into two and each side chose a leader. My House chose a leader of unparalleled power and knowledge long before I was born,” Draco’s face twisted, he wanted to show his pain at the great error they had made choosing Lord Voldemort.

“Regrettably our leader became mad. He started to behave irrationally torturing and murdering not only his enemies, but his allies” he was careful to say allies instead of followers, he didn’t want to reveal more weakness and he doubted the Malfoys would appreciate it if he spoke of rebellion against reigning Lords.

“He even started to demand things- things he had no right to”, he spoke, thinking of House Malfoy’s inheritance, yet knowing the court would believe he spoke of his virtue. His cheeks blushed a becoming pink shade; he casted down his silver eyes and his hands straightened his robe at his thighs nervously. He heard some maidenly gasps at the implications and some angry mutterings from warriors.

“It reached the point where it was decided that I would flee to safety. My Patriarch made some arrangements and I participated in a ritual that would send me to my family safely”, his Father had approved of his flight and he had made sure he would bring the priceless heirlooms, while the ritual had sent him to family, “Yet, it didn’t work as it was supposed to and that is how I came to be in these lands, your Grace”

He filled his silver eyes with gratitude and cast a gentle and maidenly look on his face, “I was so afraid when I woke up and I couldn’t recognize the magic around me and I couldn’t remember where my family was. I couldn’t understand what had happened and how I ended up here. I must thank you again for your hospitality, Your Grace, I truly don’t know what I would have done”

Draco had woken up disoriented and had not known where he was or where his family was for a few seconds. Omitting it had only been for a few seconds was no lie, so the Old Language allowed it with impunity.

“Maiden Draconis, you will have sanctuary and safety in Malfoy Fortress, no foe will reach you here”, ruled Duke Malfoy.

“Thank you, Duke Malfoy, I would like to express my gratitude with this humble offering”, he made an elegant gesture with his hand, to indicate Athils to approach with the coffret.

The twelve-year-old manservant nodded and gave the coffret to another servant who was older and better dressed. He was probably the Dragon Lord’s manservant as he was allowed to approach the throne. The Duke opened the wooden coffer slowly and his golden eyes widened. The powerful warrior took out the ring: it was a gold ring with an emerald, what made it special was that it was a focus ring, that is to say it worked similarly to a wand, channelling power and magic even if it didn’t achieve such refined results. In the Old Times, they were rare and one of such quality was rarer still.

There were some awed whispers from the crowd of courtiers. There was definitely no doubt now that Draco came from a powerful and wealthy House and that the petite blond gave them their sincere gratitude. The time-traveller had given such a wonderful boon that it was truly a gift fit for a king.

Duke Malfoy nodded in approval of the gift and put the gold ring on, handing the coffer to his manservant. Then he made a gesture signalling their conversation had ended and Draco could retire. Gracefully, the blond beauty curtsied again and backed away from the throne.


	6. Chapter 6

The last time Draco had been in the throne room, his audience hadn’t been long. After it had ended, he had immediately retired to his chambers. No one had taken offense since his magical exhaustion was well-known and it was most rude not to pay attention to Duke Malfoy as he handled petitions. Draco’s visit to the throne room had been a clean entrance and exit.

This visit wouldn’t be as smooth. He was well enough, now, to interact with the court even if for short periods of time. Therefore, his appearance was expected now. To not appear would be an insult to the nobles of Duke Malfoy’s court and to his host. He had been missing for too long and although the whispers had been in his favour, a prolonged absence wouldn’t. It wouldn’t do to be thought of as a scared little mouse. Draco was a Malfoy, even at their weakest they stood up strong. He grimaced at the memory of the Dark Lord humiliating his father, no more.

He resisted the urge to glance at his reflection in the mirror in front of Athils, he didn’t wish for his servant to inform the Malfoys of his hesitation. He had used the few days at his disposal for rest to practice the art of acting maidenly. As he had been raised as a dominant partner, he feared his mannerisms would be too self-assured and presumptuous for a submissive partner. Therefore, in Athils’ absence, he practiced in front of mirror, keeping in mind his traditional and graceful mother.

He smoothed his soft grey robe carefully; it wasn’t as luxurious as the one he had worn for his presentation. It was of rich cloth and heavily embroidered, accompanied by a discreet silver brooch. It indicated he came from a wealthy family, but it wasn’t the evident display of wealth that was in his presentation.

Wearing clothes of such wealth everyday in court would gain him no allies. It would be seen as an attempt to throw his weight around with his wealth. In Ancient Times, although wealth was important, it was considered second to strength and honour. Dressing that lavishly every day, would indicate a weakness of character that would make him undesirable. Draco wasn’t worried about not being an attractive prospect for marriage, yet his entire reputation in court depended on his desirability. Just because he had no intention of marrying, didn’t mean he had to lose what little power his desirability gave him.

Once again, he made the trip to court accompanied by Athils. He still gained stunned glances from the servants he encountered on the way. He wondered whether the servants who had seen him before, had convinced themselves that they had idealised Draco in their minds and upon seeing him again, realised it wasn’t true. The beauty of a veela was dangerous, he mused.

He stepped into the courtroom. The courtiers were mingling around the large room. There were several small groups of two or three couples talking. Unbonded warriors went through those small groups, stopping by each group. There were the groups of unbonded maidens on one side of the room sitting in chairs, divans and ottomans. A small group of elderly women with stern expressions and undecorated clothing stood nearby, their chaperons, realised Draco. Was it scandalous that Draco had no chaperon?

The Duke’s brother, Ragnvaldr was circling around the room approaching some of the small groups and speaking to them. It was clear Ragnvaldr was held in high esteem, because all the warriors straightened their backs when they spoke to him and seemed honoured by his attention. And Ragnvaldr was wary of Draco. He resisted the urge to frown.

As an unbonded maiden, he considered distastefully, he should probably sit with the unbonded maidens. Would it be too presumptuous to greet Duke Malfoy or would it be seen as rude if he didn’t? He glanced to his right. Duke Malfoy was sitting on his throne speaking to three warriors who stood in front of him. By their richly decorated robes and their postures, they were important, probably his advisors. As the Duke was already engaged, it would be seen insolent if he interrupted their conversation to greet his host.

“Draconis”, greeted Kendrick, intercepting Draco before he could go to the section with the unbonded maidens.

“Heir Malfoy”, he answered the dragon rider, giving him a deep courtesy. He made sure to address the warrior in the most formal way possible, as the other hadn’t even given him the courtesy of calling him maiden Draconis. Saying only his name implied certain intimacy.

Kendrick had managed to catch him unaware. Had the Heir purposefully positioned himself near the entrance, but where Draco wouldn’t see him when he entered the room? It seemed conceited to think so, but the serpent golden eyes were focused on him with an upsetting intensity. Draco lowered his gaze to the ground in a maidenly move; he had practiced in front of the mirror. It made him seem pure and modest. He hoped that would counter standing alone with a warrior after only taking a few steps into the room.

“I hear your health is improving”, commented the green-haired Malfoy confidently.

Draco could see that the small groups of courtiers were observing the exchange carefully. The parents of maidens were probably relieved to see such an expression of interest from Heir Malfoy. As Heir Malfoy, he was the most highborn of possible suitors for their maiden children. However, no good parent would wish for their children’s death at the birthing bed. Yet, the parents wouldn’t be capable of refusing Heir Malfoy’s marriage proposal without consequences.

Heir Malfoy’s forwardness was staking a claim on Draco. It was unlikely any other warrior would approach him with intentions of courting when Heir Malfoy’s interest was so obvious. So Draco was not only taking Heir Malfoy’s interest of their maidenly children, he also wasn’t competition to their children to more alluring prospects.

“That is so, my lord. My magical levels are slowly recovering”, he answered politely, “I am very thankful for the assistance House Malfoy has provided me, my lord”

“You ought to honour us with our presence more, then, maiden Draco, your beauty brightens the entire courtroom”, complimented Kendrick.

Although he knew Heir Malfoy desired him, he hadn’t expected the dragonrider to be so forward, at least not so soon. He had thought he would at least have until he was stronger magically. However, there was now no doubt in his mind that Kendrick had planned on staking his claim as soon as possible. He felt like he could scream in frustration. It would have been easy to politely ignore hints of Heir Malfoy’s interest, but his interest was so blatant only a simpleton wouldn’t notice it.

He floundered for a moment, not knowing how to react to the compliment. He didn’t want to encourage Kendrick, but he couldn’t outright reject his host’s son. He was still magically exhausted and he had no idea on how to get back home to his time. In his story he has implied the Dark Lord had tried to forced himself on Draco, he would play with that. He would make his discomfort obvious, but not as an offense to Heir Malfoy.

He blushed prettily and his smile grew strained, “You flatter me, my lord”, his silver eyes darted to where the chaperons where, making sure the gesture was obvious.

“Maiden Draconis”, greeted him politely Ragnvaldr.

Only a few seconds ago, the Duke’s brother had been across the room. It meant that Ragnvaldr had hurried to their side to control Kendrick. Draco gave a sigh of relief inwardly. At least there were some benefits to being disliked by a person in such a position of power. The younger dragonrider didn’t cower in front of his uncle, but he had definitely schooled his face in a more serious expression.

“Lord Malfoy”, Draco greeted the man with a graceful courtesy.

Ragnvaldr gave him a polite smile with his dark red lips. There was something distinctly predatory in his smile, it might be that his teeth were too sharp for a normal human. To most people the smile would have seemed kind and warm. Draco had been raised as a Malfoy in troubled political times, he knew there was no kindness or warmth for him in Lord Malfoy’s face. Ragnvaldr had the same dangerous and exotic beauty as his nephew and brother. His hair was a blood red instead of the dark green of his nephew or the lighter green of his brother, yet they all shared the serpentine golden eyes and the hints of scales over their neck.

“It is a pleasure to welcome you to court. It was our intention to introduce you to the members of our esteemed court as you have no relatives here. It seems like my nephew has anticipated such need”, Duke Malfoy’s most trusted advisor said.

Draco resisted the urge to purse his lips at the remainder of his lack of relatives. Lord Ragnvaldr had done it on purpose, to underline the weakness of the blonde’s position in this foreign court. While the words’ seemed kind and inviting, there was clearly a threat underneath. If this was how the elders of House Malfoy would treat him as a maiden, he shuddered to think of what treatment he would have received as a warrior.

He supposed that Lord Ragnvaldr might not think that Draco could so easily identify his intentions, as he doubted diplomacy in the Old times was so developed as in his own time. If the petite blond had been the naïve little maiden he portrayed, he wouldn’t have spotted the threat and would have perceived the redheaded advisor as friendly and helpful. Thankfully, Draco wasn’t that naïve little maiden.

At least Lord Ragnvaldr had provided a reasonable explanation for Kendrick’s forwardness to the court around him that watched the interaction attentively. It wouldn’t seem as scandalous anymore. Even if Kendrick’s interest was evident, his boldness had an explanation that showed him as the kind knight trying to aid the new little maiden lost in court. It was unconventional; usually his parents or guardians would be the ones to slowly introduce him to court members. But as Lord Ragnvaldr had pointed out, his situation was unconventional.

“You are too kind, my lord”, Draco answered with the same pretty little smile he had seen on his mother’s aristocratic face.

“It is my pleasure, maiden Draco, please allow me to introduce you to Lord Willis of House Kent and his lovely consort, Marleigh”, said Lord Ragnvaldr with a theatrical sweep of his hand.

Lord Willis was an important lord, Draco was sure. He wasn’t particularly handsome with his aged face and unfortunate nose, yet his clothes were well made and of rich clothe and he moved with the convincement of a lord of a great House. His consort Marleigh was an aged beauty of dark curls and captivating black eyes. Draco was quick to give them his second most charming smile, not wishing to seem to eager, and an elegant courtesy.

Lord Ragnvaldr had introduced him to three more pairs, all important vassals of House Malfoy, and he was already exhausted. He wished he could go back to his room to rest, since he was unused to the exercise after so much time of bed rest. However, he knew that now was the moment to meet members of the court and gain favour. Leaving too quickly right now would be a snub; he would have to remain at least for half-an-hour longer before he could truly retire.

“Maiden Draco”, greeted him a female tall warrior of golden hair and blue eyes, accompanied by a male maiden of black hair and swollen belly, “I am Lady Rohesia of House Orilon and this is my consort Aylard”

He gave a curtsy, not too deep but not too swallow indicating that his House was of equal status to House Orilon. Although, he gave her the proper respect since he was an unmarried maiden, while she was a married warrior and matriarch. And he steeled for at least a couple of pairs more to greet him before he could retire to his rooms.

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	7. Chapter 7

After the most unfortunate second visit to court, Draco had made tried to think of strategies to manage his situation. His host’s heir had displayed undisputable interest in him in front of the entire court. Lord Ragnvaldr’s excuse had made the entire matter less scandalous than it would be otherwise, yet it was still clear that he was the object of Heir Kendrick’s affections. According to his valet, the court was already bubbling with rumours of how in love Kendrick was with him. It made him want to scream in frustration. Why did the people of this time have to be so open about their feelings?

Draco had no interest in the Malfoy Heir, he wanted to learn all he could and return to his rightful time. However, he couldn’t offend his host. His life, as weakened as he was right now, relied on the good will of House Malfoy. The entire situation made Draco’s heart tighten with anxiety and he felt out of breath. It was a similar sensation to what he had experienced in the presence of the Dark Lord, although not as direly. The Dark Lord had exuded the most evil magic and his appearance had been monstrous.

The worst of all was today: in honour of Heir Kendrick’s name day, there would be a jubilant celebration. Draco had been informed that he had been given the most highly regarded position of all; he was seated by Heir Kendrick’s side at the feast. He wasn’t even sure on how to behave. He couldn’t rely on Kendrick’s sense of property. The dragonrider had already shown his disregard for it. It was, therefore, impossible for him to play the oblivious maiden. He couldn’t offend Kendrick; he couldn’t refuse him while at the same he should make it obvious his interest wasn’t welcome.

He breathed in slowly, trying to calm the nerves that fluttered around his stomach. The only thought that came to mind to prevent his position being jeopardized was to say that Draco was under his Patriarch’s command and could not court or marry without his approval. Nevertheless, he doubted that would work on Kendrick for long, the older wizard was overeager. Besides, Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to remind the green-haired warrior that he was stranded in Fortress Malfoy with no way to contact his family. The warrior would use that to pressure him.

The petite blond was startled out of his thoughts by the knocking on the wooden door that led to his bedroom from the bathroom. His rooms consisted of a bedroom, a small lavatory, a bathroom (an extravagance for the era, even for wizards) and a small solar for his use. He wanted to meet some maidens of good status to invite them to his solar, probably to do embroidery since that seemed an accepted pastime in any era. He had been practicing for many days to at least seem acceptable in sewing. He grimaced; he had gained many little wounds by the needle in his attempts.

“You may come in”, he stated clearly.

His young manservant quickly came in, “Good morning, Lord Draco”

The Slytherin gifted him with a kind smile, “Good morning, Athils”

“I have drawn you a bath, my lord”, informed him the brunette teenager.

Draco nodded regally and followed Athils to the bathroom. The entire bathing experience was bewildering in this time period. The pureblood was used to the marble bathrooms of Malfoy Manor, inspired by Roman baths. He had found the Clawfoot tub made out of copper and painted gold quite odd the first time he had seen it. He was thankful that the faucets had runes on them to pour both cold and hot water. Athils had explained that usually bathtubs had to be filled with cauldrons of hot water since the runes were so difficult to cast. It was plain that in the Old Times people had more unrestrained power, but none of the finesse of his time.

Athils helped him undress and then put his clothing carefully on a wooden cabinet. The experience of being completely naked in front of another human being was still perplexing and awkward. His house-elves had helped dress him occasionally, doing the buttons on his back or summoning robes. Yet, it wasn’t the same in front of a human. He stepped into the bathtub, which was quite high and slippery. When he sat down, the water reached his nipples. He hoped that his manservant would attribute his blush to the heat of the bath. Although, it would be useful for Athils to report to the Malfoys how coy and demure he was.

“Please raise your arm, my lord”, instructed his brunette valet as he helped bathe him using a soap wrapped in a cloth.

Draco obeyed mutely. He looked up to the low stone ceiling, the one in his bedroom was much higher he observed. His hair was getting quite long now, but he supposed that a maiden would wear his hair longer. He wished he could tell Athils that he could wash on his own but that would be quite uncharacteristic for the time. In Draco’s time, wizards were warier of human servants; that’s why they used house-elves. In this time, there were also house-elves but these house-elves were always invisible and mostly cleaned at night like at Hogwarts.

“Your hair is so beautiful, my lord, it feels like silk”, praised his manservant as he started to wash his blond hair.

The Slytherin laughed softly, “I have a friend whose hair seems to be pure silk. It’s the softest thing one could ever touch”

“What was his name?” inquired Athils.

“Her name is Pansy. She is a beautiful witch black of hair”, said Draco, feeling nostalgia overwhelm him, he didn’t know when he would see his friend again.

“Did you know each other for long?” asked the manservant, fishing for more information on the Slytherin’s past.

“Her manor was close to our own and our parents are allies. We have played together since we were infants”, he wisely didn’t mention that their parents had contemplated a betrothal between the two, these were innocuous details that made his story more credible to the Malfoys, “She adores her hair and spends so much time brushing it! We always had to urge her to be faster, lest we were late for breakfast”

“She must have had really long hair, then”, commented Athils nonchalant.

Draco hid a smile at the obvious attempt, “Her hair was the envy of all the maidens. Daphne, one of our friends, even accidently charmed it violet for a day when we were children!”

“Did she have many suitors?” inquired the twelve-year-old manservant, curious.

“She was betrothed to Theodore a year ago”, answered Draco, “Theodore is a good wizard; they will have an agreeable marriage”

“It was an arranged marriage?” asked the brunette surprised.

This was a golden opportunity. Athils would surely transmit his answer to the Malfoys. Hopefully, Duke Malfoy or Lord Ragnvaldr would use this to prevent Kendrick courting him.

The petite blond laughed melodiously, “Marriages are always arranged in our circles! The Patriarchs and Matriarchs decide the marriages. I am lucky that my Father is my Patriarch, otherwise I could end up in a quite unhappy marriage”

“They are all arranged? What about love?” inquired Athils looking astonished, Draco supposed that for a servant the entire thing seemed mad.

“Our duty is to honour our Houses, we are married in the manner that is most advantageous for our House. Pansy and Theodore will marry because their Houses are entering an economic agreement that shall benefit both, they will also be allies in political issues”, explained the petite blond.

“But won’t they feel sad to marry someone they don’t love?” asked puzzled the manservant.

“They are actually really fortunate. They are the same age and they have been friends since childhood. There are worse pairings. For instance, seventeen-year-old Beatrice was married to fifty-seven year-old Seamus”, he shuddered in remembrance of the wedding. Although wizards aged slower, Beatrice had still been too young to marry Seamus. If Seamus had waited four or five years more, the pairing wouldn’t have been so inappropriate.

“And why did she agree?” Athils was clearly dismayed at the thought.

“Duty. One must always honour their House, Athils. A good Patriarch or Matriarch will take care of its members. But it is the duty of the family to obey their Patriarch or Matriarch above all things”, stated Draco simply.

“Were… were you betrothed, my lord?” inquired hesitantly the valet.

The pureblood wished he could say yes and stop Kendrick’s advances for once and for all. However, lying in the Old Tongue was a particularly dangerous prospect. His survival also relied on his desirability. Would Kendrick feel so resentful that he would cast him out of Fortress Malfoy? He hoped not, yet he couldn’t be sure. The dragonrider was a bit temperamental from what he read between the lines of Athils’ stories.

“I was supposed to be betrothed soon, yet with the Dark Lord… my Father was unable to arrange a match for me in those circumstances, he was too busy trying to placate the Dark Lord”, sighed the Slytherin.

There was a moment of silence before Athils asked, “…Why would he need to placate the Dark Lord?”

“Our family was an ally so we offered the Dark Lord sanctuary in our manor under our wards. Unknown to us, the Dark Lord had played with too dangerous magicks and became a monster. By the time we realised, it was too late. Our home was full of his followers and the Dark Lord was powerful and quick to anger. He managed to take control of the Manor. It was a young Manor, you see, my family moved there only a couple of centuries before”, explained Draco staring at the wall vacantly, thinking of those horrifying days.

The petite blond felt regret and anger and disappointment become a ball of lead in his stomach. He had felt so hopeful at the thought of the Dark Lord. He had grown up believing the Dark Lord would free their society from muggleborns and other threats, they would go back to the Old ways and follow the Old customs. Samhain and such would no longer be banned from being practiced in public, while Christmas light glittered in the streets of Diagon Alley. Why did they have to accept a muggleborn religion that condemned witchcraft?

“We thought he was going to be our hero in war, that he would become the symbol of our people. He failed, he became too lost and mad”, stated simply Draco as he sat in the growingly cold bath.

Athils swallowed thickly, “The water is becoming old, my lord, let’s get you dry”

Draco blinked and returned to the present. He hadn’t meant to speak so much of it. He supposed he hadn’t said too much. It would only lend credence to his story, even if having spoken so much annoyed him. Even though he knew Athils was a spy for the Malfoys, he was the only person Draco saw on a normal basis. So he supposed he couldn’t help but let some things out of his chest, especially since in his own time he couldn’t criticise the Dark Lord even in his head. He had to focus though; in only a few hours the feast for Heir Kendrick’s nameday would begin.

%MCEPASTEBIN%


	8. Chapter 8

The scenery around Malfoy Fortress was as spectacular as it had been in his time. As many fortresses, the building was located on the top of a mountain to have a good view of their enemies’ approach. From the front, the mountain’s slope was gentle and almost flat, it gave way to a forest of tall pine trees not too far away from the fortress. However, the back of the Fortress gave to a cliff to a large and rich lake. Around the lake there were several mountains full of caves, where the Malfoy’s dragons apparently lived.

For the first time, Draco was in the enormous courtyard that gave to the cliff and the lake. The courtyard was usually banned to people who weren’t from House Malfoy as their dragons landed there. Today, the pureblood time-traveller was accompanied by most of the Malfoy courtiers who watched the sky with eager eyes. The young blond watched the sky with equally expectant silver eyes. Supposedly, Heir Kendrick had gone to hunt with his dragon for the evening feast. The Malfoy warrior was to land in the courtyard soon. The petite Slytherin had the uncomfortable impression that the display was aimed to impress him in particular. Still, it would be definitely something to see.

Finally, from one of the mountains a large black figure emerged. With abated breath, Draco stared as the creature extended its long wings descending regally to the lake below before lifting its flight towards the sky once more. The dragon was black, it had two horns on his head and his tail was spiked. It reminded the Slytherin vaguely of the Horntail Potter had fought in the Triwizard Tournament. It was such a magnificent creature. The dragon flew beautifully, Draco had rarely been witness to such august flying. This was a powerful and strong creature that belonged in the sky. The ultimate predator.

The dragon moved gracefully in the sky, increasing its speed and cutting through the air like an arrow. Then it slowed down again and flew behind one of the mountains. It reappeared soon, rising higher in the sky as though it was about to touch the sun. Its black scales glittered impressively under the sunlight. It was truly beautiful, a magical being in all its meanings. A dragon was the embodiment of magic and grace and predator. And once upon a time, Draco’s family, Draco’s house had bonded with such creatures. If he returned home with such ability, the Dark Lord would learn to fear the Malfoy name.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” inquired Ragnvaldr suddenly standing by his side, “House Malfoy is not to be underestimated”

The tall Malfoy was dressed in a black leather jerkin with golden buttons and his doublet was the Malfoy rich green with simple black embroidery. The Malfoys didn’t have a maiden in their family, thus the tailors would make all embroidery and warriors probably didn’t care much for it without the emotional significance. After all, detailed embroidery made by a maiden was symbol of love. The dragon rider wore a chain of office made out of gold and large emeralds with a fierce dragon hanging from it, a clear sign he was of House Malfoy. His trousers were of thick fabric and black, he had probably been riding his dragon this morning as well, mused Draco.

The threat was too obvious, yet the petite blond gave Lord Malfoy an awed smile, “Most impressive, such a graceful and powerful creature. It’s a being of magic and might”

The redhead’s golden eyes narrowed slightly, “Indeed”

“Heir Kendrick rides beautifully as well, my lord”, Draco added casually, it was a reminder that Heir Kendrick favoured the blond and would not take well to his uncle threatening him.

The message behind his words was clearly understood. Although Lord Ragnvaldr probably thought he hadn’t done it on purpose since Draco was displaying a particularly naïve and oblivious behaviour even in front of Athils. The ruse wasn’t hard to maintain as he was alone most of the time. Duke Malfoy’s brother was still displeased at the message though. Right now Lord Ragnvaldr was his brother’s right hand, yet Kendrick was the heir and it wouldn’t be wise to alienate him over such a small matter. His golden eyes glinted with anger and his shoulders tensed.

“He’s a pride to House Malfoy, Maiden Draco”, determined Ragnvaldr coldly, insinuating that the Malfoy Heir was too good for the young pureblood.

The petite blond hid a small, amused smile as he turned his fair face to the sky. It was ironic to have the redhead Malfoy try to dissuade him from forming a relationship with Heir Kendrick, when Draco had no interest in Heir Kendrick. He thought he had already made it clear that he wasn’t interested in a relationship without his House’s approval. Apparently, Ragnvaldr believed he was trying to play coy and make his nephew chase after him.

Finally, the black dragon glided down elegantly to the yard, dropping first two large dead hippogriffs. There were gasps and excited muttering as the enormous creature landed on the courtyard. The dragon was much closer now and Draco could feel Lord Ragnvaldr’s serpentine eyes on him, expecting his fear. The petite blond could feel the magic rolling off the dragon; it was more powerful and untamed than that of the dragons of the Triwizard Tournament. Heir Kendrick who looked small in comparison to the enormous dragon, slipped off an elaborate leather seat and walked down the dragon’s front leg.

“Maiden Draco”, greeted him immediately the handsome Malfoy Heir.

Surprisingly, the petite blond felt his cheeks heat at the attention. He supposed it was normal to feel attracted to power and right now Heir Kendrick was the very image of it. He controlled his dragon effortlessly. He was tall and broad, his dark green hair was wind-swept and there was a light of excitement in his golden eyes from flying. He was dressed in tight clothes suited for riding as well.

Draco offered him a refined curtsy, “Congratulations on you nameday, Heir Kendrick”

“You look even more beautiful today, Maiden Draco, which I thought to be impossible”, flattered the Malfoy Heir with a roguish smile.

The young time-traveller had wished to fit in with the courtiers more; clothing and styling could indicate a lot of things in court. Changing his style of dressing would illustrate his willingness to be part of the Malfoy court. Thus, he had ordered his manservant to braid his hair with long threads of silver silk and pearls, as he had seen quite a few maidens with such a style. Then, Athils had created a crown braid with some of the braids while the rest of his blond hair was down. He was wearing a beautiful robe of soft lilac richly embroidered with grey leaves, the torso was tighter yet the skirts flared out a bit. He was also wearing his white gold medallion with his House’s crest.

“You flatter me, my lord”, he answered politely, but his own tone was warmer than he had expected.

He supposed he was lonely here and he was glad that someone was so kind to him, even if it would create problems for him in the future. Nonetheless, he would need to show that he wasn’t welcoming Heir Kendrick’s attentions. He glanced to the side to see Lord Ragnvaldr staring down at his nephew with censure in his golden eyes. However, the young dragon rider didn’t seem to accept his uncle’s disapproval, as he looked defiant. In fact, he realised with a start Kendrick hadn’t even greeted his uncle with a nod.

This wasn’t good. While he was happy that at least someone defended him to suspicious Lord Ragnvaldr, that sort of behaviour would only foster more distrust. The elder dragon rider was still Duke Malfoy’s right hand and it wasn’t wise to make him an enemy if he could still be swayed to his side. The least he wanted to do was be seen by Lord Ragnvaldr as the maiden who tore his House apart.

“The truth can’t be flattery, my dear maiden”, replied gallantly Heir Kendrick, “Please, allow me to escort you inside”

“Lord Ragnvaldr, thank you for your company, I am still lost in court and you are always kind to me”, he said with all the maidenly courtesy and sincerity he could muster as he grasped Heir Kendrick’s offered arm. It was better to diffuse the tension by leaving instead of letting the two warriors anger grow.

The lord gave him a forced smile, “It is my pleasure, Maiden Draco, what sort of host would House Malfoy be if we didn’t look after our guests?”

He gave Lord Ragnvaldr a sweet smile and let Heir Kendrick lead him away. The Malfoy courtiers were all studying the scene, he hoped he didn’t look like a manipulative maiden that enthralled the Malfoy Heir and diminished his uncle out of petty dislike. He had tried to look oblivious to the tension between the two Malfoys, as there hadn’t been any open confrontation. He hoped he had acted well enough to be believed.

“We shall have some lunch and tonight will be my nameday feast! You shall be seated next to me, my sweet maiden”, started saying Heir Kendrick in a voice loud enough to be heard by the rest of the court.

The petite blond resisted the urge to sigh, Heir Kendrick had already told him so, he only said it again to trap him into agreeing, “You honour me, my lord, I’m afraid it’s too high an honour for a foreigner. Wouldn’t a lord of your court be more suitable to receive such honour?”

“Nonsense! You are more than worthy of this honour, it will make my nameday more enjoyable to have you by my side”, responded Heir Kendrick confidently, knowing Draco would have no other choice but to accept.

“Thank you, Heir Kendrick”, the young Slytherin answered as he lifted his skirts slightly to climb the steep stairs.

“What did you think of Hillevi? Isn’t she a beauty?” inquired the dragon rider with a smirk.

“She is most impressive, my lord, her flying is so graceful!” responded as expected Draco; almost despite himself he could feel excited at the memory of the powerful dragon.

“She flies beautifully. There is nothing like being in the air”, stated Kendrick with a genuine smile, for once no flirtation in his tone.

“Yes, flying is like nothing else in the world”, sighed the younger pureblood as he thought of the broom he couldn’t use in the Old Times.

“You fly?” questioned surprised the strong warrior.

The blond bit his lower lip; he supposed it wasn’t a very maidenly pastime. Then again, Kendrick had this image of him as the perfect maiden and it was that image that he was attracted to. Mayhaps showing that he wasn’t that perfect little maiden would make the dragon rider’s infatuation pass. It was feasible to shatter that image while at the same time, not be too shocking to lose his standing in court.

“My father bred Abraxans and he taught me how to fly”, replied the time-traveller as though it was something natural and expected.

“Abraxans?” asked confused the green haired wizard.

“They are horses with wings, they fly incredibly, better than a hippogriff”, the petite wizard responded thinking bitterly of his second year.

“My, you surprise me, my sweet maiden, you are quite the sports man!” teased Heir Kendrick amused.

It seemed the dragonrider hadn’t taken the thought of a maiden riding Abraxans as badly as he would have expected. He had to remember that these were the Old Times, yet some aspects of society he had been taught were from a later period in time. It did seem to make Draco more of a real person in Kendrick’s eyes, yet the warrior didn’t disdain his shattered image of the perfect little maiden. To his disbelief, the petite blond realised that he was starting to enjoy the conversation. He had been too isolated, it was sad that even these crumbs of affection made him feel lighter and find someone as obnoxious as Kendrick tolerable.


	9. Chapter 9

It was the first time he had had dinner in the Great Hall, even when he had visited with his Father, he had never eaten there. The hall was similar in size and structure to that of Hogwarts, with a high table and the lower tables. Today, Draco had the great honour of sitting in the high table quite near Duke Malfoy. Sadly, he had only been granted that honour by sitting next to Heir Malfoy. Duke Malfoy was seated at the centre of the table, to his right was Lord Ragnvaldr and to his left was Kendrick, with the time-traveller sitting next to the Heir.

“You must try this delicacy, my sweet maiden”, insisted Heir Kendrick gesturing to one of the servants to bring a dish closer.

Draco felt his cheeks heat up; a warrior would only feed a maiden if they were married. The Malfoy Heir wasn’t going as far as feeding him from his own plate or hand, yet the significance of the gesture was more than evident. To refuse the dish would be a humiliating rejection for the dragon rider, which the petite blond couldn’t afford. Yet, to accept would be seen as encouragement of the informal courtship.

Heir Kendrick took the silver tray from the servant and served a generous portion to the Slytherin’s plate. The young wizard blinked, he hadn’t even had time to think of a polite refusal that would make his disinterest apparent. Although he supposed a sign of disinterest sitting next to Heir Kendrick on his nameday would be seen as playing coy for the dragon rider. He looked at the dish; to Draco it looked odd to say the least. There was a dead swan on top of a pie. He supposed that re-creating the swan required talent and skill and that was what made it prized.

“Thank you, my lord”, replied with a small grateful smile the petite blond.

He bit into the tender meat of the swan, feeling the eyes of the dragon lord and half of the court on him. He resisted the urge to blush; his persona would be oblivious to the stares of the people around him. He hoped his table manners, which were more refined than in this time, would look elegant instead of silly. He just couldn’t abide the thought of eating with his hands. The mere idea made him remember his mother shaking her head disappointed when he was a child.

The taste of the swan pie was not so different from other meat pies he had tried before, yet he could not give that honest statement. Although usually many dishes were repeated at court, there was only a single dish of swan pie, which meant it was likely a prized dish. It would be discourteous not to praise the dish. He savoured the bite, trying to find something to praise that the Old Tongue would allow with impunity. The meat itself was tender and the taste held the stronger notes usually found in game meat.

“It is truly a delicacy, my lord, I have never seen anything like it”, said the time-traveller graciously.

Heir Kendrick smiled wildly, as though he had been given a great compliment, and leant back on his chair, “I am glad it is to your taste, my lovely maiden”

Draco could see that Duke Malfoy was paying close attention to their interaction as well as Lord Ragnvaldr. The ruler kept talking to his brother as though nothing had happened; yet he could see the advisor’s jaw clench. He wondered whether there was more significance to the swan pie than he had given it. He hoped not.

Suddenly, there were awing sounds and the young Slytherin found that one of the hippogriffs was being brought apparently it had been just roasted. The sight was quite impressive: six men were carrying the enormous silver tray on which lay the hippogriff. He supposed the servants would present his prey to Heir Kendrick and then take it away to cut it into more manageable dishes to carry.

“Finally, the main course!” exclaimed excited the green-haired pureblood, pride obvious in his posture at the sight of the enormous hippogriff.

The servants advanced slowly, careful to maintain the hippogriff on the silver tray. As they approached, Draco realised that the silver tray had runes engraved to make the dish lighter for the servants. Seeing as the hippogriff was the weight of at least three men, it made sense for a dish to be enchanted to make the burden lighter. The footmen paused in front of the high table, displaying the impressive catch. He wondered whether the top of the hippogriff tasted like bird and the lower body as a horse. He would soon find out, he supposed.

Heir Kendrick stood up from his seat imperiously, “It took fourteen of my arrows to fell this mighty beast. It is my pleasure to share it with my House and its vassals. I humbly offer to maiden Draco the heart of this beast”

The entire hall was speechless at the dragon lord’s words. This was important. Even though the custom had fallen out of favour in Draco’s time, he knew that the heart of a great beast was of great gravity. It was said that eating their heart would grant strength to the warrior that had felled it. He could only imagine what offering the heart to a maiden could mean in the Old Times. It was clearly a public sign of regard, but was it anymore than that? Would Draco be agreeing to marriage if he accepted? No, that didn’t make sense. It was probably an offer of courtship and the petite blond would be granting Heir Kendrick the honour of courting him if he accepted. He wasn’t sure he could deny him.

He felt anxiety crawl up from his stomach to his chest. His throat felt tight. He didn’t know what to do. Rejection would be humiliating to House Malfoy and he couldn’t afford to displease House Malfoy. At the same time, he couldn’t encourage the courtship. He didn’t want to marry Heir Kendrick; he wanted to go back home. Besides, he needed his Patriarch’s permission to court. He had never expected to be placed in such a position. Any possible courter knew that they had to obtain his father’s permission first. This was… He was unprepared for this.

The entire court was waiting for his response. He could feel Duke Malfoy’s cold golden eyes on him. Heir Kendrick was looking at him as well, but his entire demeanour screamed confidence. He had to respond. Draco had been quiet for too long. If he waited any longer it would be a slight.

“I- thank you, Heir Kendrick, for this great honour”, he managed to say.

The time-traveller wished to continue, to explain that he couldn’t court without his Patriarch’s approval. However, the courtiers started cheering at his answer, not letting him continue. The dragon lord smiled grandly and signalled to the servants to take the hippogriff away before sitting down again.

“You do me a great honour, my sweet maiden”, told him the older pureblood as he laid his rough hand on top of Draco’s pale hand.

The young Slytherin had not been touched so familiarly since he had arrived to this time. He gasped at the liberty of the dragon lord. He felt at a loss. He truly didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t offend his host. His magic was still too weak to even cast spells. And yet… he couldn’t allow this to happen. He had to let his courter down gently and politely without causing offense.

“I-, my lord, it is… unexpected”, started the beautiful time-traveller, hesitating as to how approach the subject.

The golden-eyed Malfoy Heir only smiled more openly, “How can it be so, when I have made my regard for you so clear?”

Was Heir Kendrick deliberately ignoring his obvious misgivings to the situation? Did he even care that Draco was so plainly uncomfortable? The petite blond swallowed thickly, trying to find a way to voice his reservations without offending his hosts. Despite the revelry on the lower tables being loud and Duke Malfoy and Lord Ragnvaldr conversing, he knew a lot of people were paying close attention to their conversation. Would it be better to leave this discussion for a less public venue? But no, it couldn’t be seen as though he was leading the dragon lord on.

“I just- surely you must know that I need my Patriarch’s approval of any match, my lord”, spoke the young beauty decorously.

“Ah, but your Patriarch is out of contact. And surely your Father would not disapprove of a match with such a powerful and great House, would he?” responded with calculated carelessness Heir Kendrick.

And what could Draco say to that? He had again been reminded of his precarious situation, his life depended on House Malfoy’s good will. Furthermore, no one could deny that House Malfoy was a strong and powerful house, especially with their dragons. To insinuate otherwise would be a grave affront. In this situation, the part-veela couldn’t even mention the Malfoy’s fertility problems.

“I- I suppose it is still in the courting process”, replied Draco, trying to make it clear that for a marriage Heir Kendrick would need his Father’s permission.

The dragon lord didn’t seem bothered by the time-traveller’s reply, brightening at the sight of the footmen returning with a silver dish holding the hippogriff’s heart that had placed Draco in this uncertain plight. The servant gave the dish to Heir Kendrick, who in turn placed it in front of the comely Slytherin.

The young pureblood felt nauseous at the sight of the enormous heart. He had never been too fond of organs for eating, yet it was what the heart represented what made his stomach turn. His stomach felt heavy as though the food he had already consumed had turned into lead. He glanced up demurely. Everyone was watching him. He had to eat it. His heart was pounding against his chest.

He picked up his utensils and painstakingly slowly he started to cut into the big heart. It wasn’t tender at all and seemed springy. He brought a bite of the meat into his pink lips and then into his mouth. He felt queasy as he tried to eat the mouthful of hippogriff heart. Eating it felt like a terrible mistake. But what other option did he have? It was hard to swallow the small mouthful. He didn’t know however he could manage the entire heart.

Heir Kendrick seemed greatly pleased with his eating the heart, his golden eyes watching attentively as Draco forced himself to swallow bite after bite. It wasn’t until the petite blond had eaten half of the heart that the dragon lord picked up his own knife and started to eat the heart as well. The young Slytherin was sure that their sharing the heart had also some special significance but he could hardly concentrate on deciphering it, when he felt so lost.

It didn’t take long for his powerful courter to finish the hippogriff heart. Soon after that, the music became louder and the dragon lord insisted that the petite blond accompany him for a dance. The time-traveller had tried to discourage the idea, since he knew none of the dances of this time, yet his protests weren’t much convincing to the determined Malfoy Heir. The rest of the feast seemed to be like a dream. He knew that he had danced with Heir Kendrick, much more closely than he would have wished for, although most dances were group dances. And he knew that the dragon lord had escorted him to his rooms. However, he couldn’t precisely say what they had spoken about or what sort of music he had danced to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An idea for Draco's outfit: www.dolldivine.com/Modified-Dolls/Serena90-3027846


	10. Chapter 10

“Good morning, my lord”, greeted him Athils as he parted the thick curtains of the small row of windows to his right.

Draco slowly opened his silver eyes and blinked at the onslaught of light. He groaned and tuned around to hide from the light, dragging his burgundy covers with him. His lids felt heavy and his mind wasn’t quite awake. The bed was very comfortable and he didn’t wish to wake up yet. He still hadn’t recovered from his magic exhaustion and wouldn’t for a couple of months more, therefore he slept more than he did in prime conditions.

“Please, you must wake and bathe, you are waited at court”, urged him gently his young manservant, his voice kind.

The petite blond frowned; as a maiden he wasn’t expected as much at court, especially with his illness. Hadn’t he been at court only yesterday? It was then, that the events from yesterday dawned on him like an icy cloudburst. He remained still on the bed as he remembered. Heir Kendrick had publically began their courtship by offering him a hippogriff’s heart and the time-traveller had had no choice but to accept. Draco’s reticence and his appeals to Kendrick to be patient, as he didn’t have his Patriarch’s permission, had been ignored.

“At court? Again?” he inquired, hoping that he would have more time to prepare a strategy to finish the courtship without offending his host.

His brown-haired valet nodded as he took out the towels he would use to dry Draco after his bath, “Of course, my lord, your courtship with Heir Malfoy has just been announced”

The Slytherin sat up in his four-poster bed, “But I have no chaperone”, he stated with worry in his melodious voice.

“You shall be in public at court and I am sure Lord Ragnvaldr will arrange for a chaperone”, replied amused the twelve-year-old wizard.

It seemed he had no other option but to raise from bed, bathe and attend court. He sighed internally. He didn’t know how he could act to mitigate the effects of this particular disaster. Heir Kendrick had taken him completely off-guard. He had been naïve, had expected the warrior to respect that Draco couldn’t court without his Patriarch’s approval. He had thought he had made his reticence clear enough for the dragon rider to respect his wishes or at least be more prudent in his courting. Unfortunately, it seemed his reluctance had only served to fan the flames of Heir Malfoy’s passion.

He let his young manservant help him bathe and brush his hair. Meanwhile he tried to think of how to act in court today. He just couldn’t come up with anything that would solve this fiasco. He racked his brain trying to come up with alternatives. However, he always faced the difficulty of the difference in cultures. Although he had had a traditional upbringing, respecting the Old Ways, it was clear that didn’t mean he had been raised with the same culture as Heir Kendrick and his peers.

“My lord, you seem distracted, is something the matter?” asked Athils, his brown eyes concerned.

“I am well… I am just uneasy, it feels wrong to be in a courtship without my Father’s approval”, the Hogwarts’ student confessed, knowing that his manservant reported on his thoughts to the Malfoys.

“I am sure your father approves, my lord”, assured him Athils, “The Malfoys are a very powerful House, you shall bring glory to your House with this suitable match. And this is a opportunity, your match won’t be arranged, you could marry for love”

Of course, his young valet would only speak praises of the Malfoys, conveniently forgetting the fertility issues that would put Draco’s life at risk. And a match for love? The time-traveller wasn’t even sure he liked Heir Kendrick! He had felt attracted to him; the Malfoy Heir was young, handsome and powerful. Nonetheless, that certainly didn’t mean he wished to marry him! The dragon rider was arrogant and uncaring of other’s feelings, especially Draco’s. But he couldn’t voice those thoughts.

He forced a smile, “Yes, of course. Nevertheless, I can’t help but still wish for my Patriarch’s approval…”

“That is normal, yet you have no way to communicate with your family, do you?” questioned the manservant, surprisingly forward, “It is no use to stop your life until you can contact them, my lord”

“Indeed”, he responded quietly.

The petite beauty swallowed thickly. This had been his mistake. He had been too honest. It was obvious that he was stranded in the Malfoy’s land with no way to contact his House or return. While it was clear his House was powerful and wealthy, his Father was compromised by the Dark Lord’s presence and wouldn’t seek Draco. In the Malfoys’ mind, by the time his Patriarch had freed himself of the Dark Lord and sought the young blond, the Slytherin would be married already. His lord father would be angry, naturally, as it had been done without his blessing. However, it would be too late for his father to do anything but accept the match with the powerful House.

He had been so naïve. He had thought in the Old Times the warriors would be ruled by the honour code that had been characteristic according to his lessons. He should have known that historians always romanticised the reality. The Malfoys were ruthless dragon riders, why had he believed that they would feel compelled to protect the maiden in distress? He had thought himself so smart and manipulative! And it turned out he had been gullible like an innocent lamb.

“How would you like to style your hair today, my lord?” inquired his brown-haired valet.

A part of Draco wanted to go back to styling his hair and dressing like in his time as a subtle gesture of how he didn’t wish to join the Malfoy court. Having said that, it was too late for gestures of this manner, especially as he had already accepted the courtship, it would only reflect badly on him.

“Parted in the middle with small braids going to tight coil at the back of the head. Use the strands of silver silk from yesterday”, he finally instructed.

Athils’ fingers were agile as they braided and the petite blond idly wondered whom he had served before Draco. Was some maiden vexed because their manservant had been stolen to spy on the foreigner maiden?

“What will you wear today, my lord?” asked the twelve-year old manservant.

“The periwinkle robe with full skirts, the embroidery is in silver and it depicts lilies”, he replied after a moment.

It didn’t take long until the petite blond was clothed and escorted to the throne room, where the court was currently congregated. He entered the room with a certain level of resignation; he had no plan on how to handle his amorous courter. The only thing he could do was stall until he had recovered his magic and knew of a way to return to his time. He wondered how long courtships usually were in these times, hopefully long. The only way he could see to prolong the courtship, given their disregard for his father’s approval, was to emphasize his magic exhaustion. After all if Malfoy consorts struggled to conceive hale and healthy, Draco would struggle even more so in his illness. That ought to give him time.

“My sweet maiden, as always you brighten any room you walk into”, greeted him immediately Heir Kendrick stepping to his side and kissing the back of his hand most gallantly.

The pleasure that his attentions had brought to Draco yesterday didn’t come. Even though the dragon lord was quite impressive today, his clothes more formal and rich than the time-traveller had seen before.

“You honour me, Heir Kendrick”, he replied with a curtsey.

“How have you slept, my dear?” inquired the dragon rider offering his arm for the Slytherin to take.

The underage wizard gave the pretty smile he had copied from his lady mother and took the firm arm, “I have slept well, my lord, I am still prey to magic exhaustion, I am afraid”

“I shall have to tell the healer to attend more to you, my dear”, replied without missing a beat the green-haired pureblood.

It was then that Draco noticed, with alarm, that his courter was directing him to another door to leave the throne room, “Are we to leave court?”

“Yes, I thought a walk through the gardens would do you well”, responded calmly the dragon rider with a wining smile.

“That is very thoughtful, my lord, yet surely we ought to be accompanied by a chaperone?” he contested with as much delicacy as he could.

Heir Kendrick seemed amused at his observation and was to reply when he was interrupted.

“Fear not, maiden Draco, your reputation will be intact as I shall be accompanying you”, spoke Lord Ragnvaldr suddenly from behind them.

The way the redheaded dragon rider had said reputation, with derision, implied how little the man thought of his virtue. So he was to be accompanied by the wizard who seemed to hate him. This walk was just becoming a nightmare. Apparently Lord Ragnvaldr had confirmed that the Slytherin was a little trollop set to seduce his nephew. Draco didn’t even know why someone would wish to seduce the Heir of a House with such notorious and infamous fertility problems. The time-travelled swallowed his frustration.

“Thank you, Lord Ragnvaldr, you are always so kind”, he forced out successfully. Lying in the Old Tongue had become easier, in the purest sense Lord Ragnvaldr had been kind to Draco always coming to his aid when he was with Kendrick.

“Yes, uncle, thank you for chaperoning”, retorted Heir Kendrick mockingly.

Draco tensed; it was going to be a quite stressful walk it seemed. The green-haired wizard led him through an unexplored part of the fortress for the petite beauty that led to a courtyard inside the castle. It was green and full of live and the stone fountain of dragons in the middle was quite impressive for the times of unrestrained and unrefined magic.

“I wonder who shall be our chaperone for the future, Heir Kendrick?” he inquired, knowing that if he didn’t press on the matter with Lord Ragnvaldr present, the youngest dragonrider would conveniently forget.

“I have been surveying a few prospects for the position, maiden Draco, I shall soon find one suitable”, inserted the red-haired counsellor.

“My thanks, my lord”, replied Draco, “I await to meet them”

“I shall also introduce you to some maidens that will keep you company”, added Lord Ragnvaldr casually.

The young time-traveller knew too well what the Duke’s confidant had in mind: he would surround Draco with spies that would keep him informed of the maiden’s movements. The fair beauty was sure that his companions would be of good families, loyal to the Malfoys if a bit dull and boring.

“I am pleased to hear so, despite my fatigue for my magic exhaustion, it can be lonely at times. It is gladdening to hear I shall have maidenly company”, he expressed as kindly as he could.

“It is my pleasure, after all, you are our guest and courting my nephew”, said in response the redhead pureblood.

At the sickly sweet voice of Lord Ragnvaldr, Draco felt only dread in his stomach. The counsellor would know all his movements, he wouldn’t be able to think or breathe without the antagonistic redhead knowing all about it. He wasn’t sure he could endure that for long, as weak as he felt right now.


	11. Chapter 11

Embroidery was even more boring once you managed to do it correctly, determined Draco as he watched the blue fabric with tiny little winged serpents. At least when he had been learning, it had been something new and necessary. Now, it was just tedious. He wasn’t skilled enough to not focus on the embroidery either. The petite blond had the sneaking suspicion that he would come to hate embroidery passionately. Although he had been raised to adore the blue of his House, he could already feel the stirrings of irritation every time he set his silver eyes on the blue handkerchief.

“Is that a favour for Heir Kendrick?” inquired curiously Birgit Rangecroft, one of the maidens Lord Ragnvaldr had instructed to keep him company.

The question made dread fall heavily on Draco’s stomach. He raised his blue eyes to find the five maidens keeping him company waiting for his reply impatiently. Birgit’s own face seemed innocent with her wide green eyes and golden hair, yet the time-traveller knew the other maiden had done it on purpose. Birgit’s House was powerful and she was one of the fairest maidens in court, it was in her best interest to advance Heir Kendrick’s interest in Draco.

She was the most cunning of the Lord Ragnvaldr’s little spies. Maiden Dortha Bryant, a pretty girl of thirteen years of age, was observant and quiet yet she wouldn’t actively try to guide the conversation. In contrast, Maiden Mikkel Treverton, an eighteen-year-old black of hair and blue of eyes, was a vapid wizard with little interest in things other than courtship. Maiden Helga Schaeffer was little better; she was already betrothed and only giggled of how handsome her fiancé was. At least Maiden Katrine Weisberg was well-read if only in courtly romances and love songs. Furthermore, the seventeen-year-old blond was a good singer and harpist.

The Slytherin laughed jovially, trying to make the matter seem senseless, “No, of course not, it is rather soon for that, isn’t it? I am merely embroidering a new handkerchief”

Birgit’s green eyes narrowed slightly before adopting a genial expression, “Oh, but it wouldn’t be odd at all to sew a handkerchief for your betrothed!”

Draco’s hands tightened on the soft fabric and his sweet smile became tense. Betrothed? They were still courting! He was still free of attachment and he would remain so until he found a way to get out of this unfavourable position. He would not marry Heir Kendrick, he would learn all he could and he would go back to his time! His family, his real family, needed him and needed a strong heir of House Malfoy.

“Heir Kendrick and I aren’t betrothed yet, merely courting. No betrothal can take place without my Patriarch’s approval”, he replied primly.

“Oh, but everyone knows how courting ends”, giggled Maiden Mikkel, twirling one of his black curls in his little finger and looking excited, “Betrothal and marriage!”

The exclamation, of course, brought Maiden Helga to giggles as well. With dread, Draco realised that his companions were dropping their sewing supplies in a clear indication that the conversation would continue. Annoyance bubbled in his chest. There was truly nothing more vexing than a group of thoughtless and insipid maidens giggling over courtships, especially when the Slytherin didn’t want his own courtship. Couldn’t Lord Ragnvaldr have chosen spies less exasperating? His silver eyes darted to his personal chaperone, Anne Meyers, in the hopes that he would put a stop to this foolishness. His hopes were dashed when the old lady continued to sew into her fabric, giving no sign of disapproval to the topic of conversation.

“You’re so lucky, Maiden Draco, Heir Kendrick is so handsome”, swooned Maiden Helga, “Even my Vadik isn’t as handsome”

The time-traveller successfully bit his tongue; he wished he could retort that Vadik’s line didn’t mean the death of the bearer of their child. Honestly, if Lord Ragnvaldr truly wished to stop Heir Kendrick’s courtship why would he surround Draco by people who only sung his praises? He supposed it would be more suspicious if his companions had spoken ill of their liege’s heir to a newly arrived wizard, yet he would have much preferred that.

“I can already imagine your wedding day! Oh and your children would be so beautiful!” exclaimed Birgit enthusiastically.

Nicely done, speaking in plural as though any Malfoy had had more than one child. The Slytherin swallowed his bitterness; the other maidens seemed under the impression that Draco didn’t know of the Malfoys misfortunate legacy issues. It made the petite blond wonder whether Athils was more loyal to him that he would have thought or if it was just a stratagem of Lord Ragnvaldr. He could trust nobody here, he reprimanded himself sternly. The last time he had let his guard down he had ended up in courtship with Heir Kendrick. That couldn’t happen again.

And that is when there was a knock on the door. Miss Anne, the chaperone, quickly set aside her sewing to open the door that gave way to his small solar. Draco could feel his dread grow as the chaperone went to open the door. He hoped against all logic that his suitor wasn’t behind that door. He had already been subjected to two more awkward feasts and four promenades through the courtyard. The Slytherin was thankful that Heir Kendrick had a number of military responsibilities inside House Malfoy that often called him away to patrol the borders and check on other keeps of their kingdom.

Miss Anne opened the door and her face brightened, “Maiden Draco, it seems that there is a present for you”

The words only made the young time-traveller feel warier. He carefully set aside the handkerchief and thread that he had been holding to incite the other maidens to return to their sewing instead of extoll Heir Kendrick’s dubious virtues. The tall chaperone quickly stepped aside to reveal a mature woman of dark skin and black eyes accompanied by a sweet looking girl in her apprentice years with a heavy package on her arms. It was obvious what that package was.

All the maidens in his solar, despite their high education, immediately started whispering excitedly. They all recognised the dressmaker, from what Draco could determine from their frantic exclamations, she was the best in the Malfoys dukedom. An expensive present, then. Usually expensive presents brought out excitement and anticipation in Draco; it was to be expected with wealthy and indulgent parents. This time, the excitement was sadly lacking and anticipation had become anxiety.

“Maiden Draco, I am Mrs Rada Shepard and this is my apprentice, Miss Jacey. I bring you a gift from your suitor, Heir Malfoy”, stated the mature witch confidently as she stepped into the small solar.

The modiste was most assuredly the best in her field. Otherwise she wouldn’t be so confident surrounded by maidens of high birth. The other maidens immediately scooted their seats, allowing the witch to walk right up to Draco. This was a professional woman of prestige and she knew it. She hadn’t even hesitated in going to him or even attempted to greet the other maidens. The dressmaker made a sharp gesture to Jacey, who had trailed behind her and the sweet girl offered the petite blond his gift.

With a tense smile, Draco accepted the gift and opened the wooden box carefully. It was a green dress. The Slytherin’s stomach dropped, this was worse than he had thought. Fortunately, the shade of green wasn’t similar to that of House Malfoy. House Malfoy used a jewelled forest green, whereas this was a dark sea green. Still, it would look peculiarly similar under the feeble lights of the candles at dinner. It seemed like Heir Kendrick was cannier than Draco had thought, wearing the colours of House Malfoy would indicate that the maiden was accepting of the match. At the same time, the time-traveller had to wear the dress soon for it would be rude to not wear a suitor’s present unless he was dismissing the match, which Draco couldn’t currently do.

“Allow me, Maiden Draco”, said Mrs Shepard with no subservience in her tone.

The modiste picked up the dress from the wooden box and raised it until the skirts touched the floor. It was beautiful. And it was certainly a dress: with narrowed waistline and flared skirts. It wasn’t a maidenly robe or tunic like those Draco usually wore. This was a dress in the style of House Malfoy’s court. He could hear the other maidens gasping appreciatively over the fine dress. To him, this dress represented everything that had been going wrong in his little excursion to the past.

“A magnificent gown”, he praised, nonetheless with the charm learnt from his elegant mother.

Mrs Shepard didn’t preen as one would be expected when praised for their skill, “It is necessary for you to try it on, Maiden Draco, to see if there is need of any adjustments”

The part-siren glanced around the room, seeing all the other maidens positively thrilled and making no gesture as to grant him some modesty. For society who prized its maidens to the point of having chaperones, there were not enough restrictions on nudity, determined sullenly Draco.

“Indeed, let us retire to my bed chamber”, he replied as he raised gracefully from his seat.

Despite his obvious intention to leave the other maidens behind, Miss Anne and Maiden Mikkel quickly followed into his bedchamber to help him change into the gown. Since the modiste and his apprentice were also helping Draco, their assistance wasn’t required but that didn’t stop them from helping strip the petite blond from his simple and refined tunic. The Slytherin quickly saw the modiste’s interest in the tunic and hid a smile, a true professional would always notice talent.

“You wear no corset, Maiden Draco?” inquired Miss Anne with disapproval tinting her voice, even though the answer was bare to her brown eyes.

“It is not fashionable where I come from”, replied simply the time-traveller.

“This gown needs a corset-” started to complain Maiden Mikkel.

“No matter, I have come prepared”, interrupted Mrs Shepard, “Jacey, bring the other box”

To Draco’s horror, the young girl rushed outside and came back with another box that revealed a corset. Soon he laced into the uncomfortable torture device, which was tightened until he could barely breathe and it received Miss Anne’s approval. Shortly after, the gown was pulled over his head. He felt like a doll, pulled one way and another without a thought of whether he wanted to.

“It will need to be tightened at the waist”, muttered Mrs Shepard as she pinched the extra fabric around his waist.

“You look so beautiful, Draco!” bellowed Maiden Mikkel.

He was pulled toward his mirror. Draco Malfoy, Heir of House Malfoy, could hardly recognize himself. The corset gave him a tiny waist and childbearing hips, especially with its generously flaring skirts. The green contrasted sharply against his pale skin and fair hair. His hair was still styled in the manner of Duke Malfoy’s court, in braids and silk white ribbons and pearls. He truly looked like a maiden of this court. He looked like Heir Kendrick’s bride. He didn’t look like himself, like Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoys. It was vaguely terrifying. He felt his throat close up.

“Let us show the others”, declared eagerly the black haired maiden, opening the door and signalling to the others to come in.

In moments, Draco was surrounded by the other maidens cooing over how beautiful he looked. They kept chattering of how he should wear this gown with emeralds and silver, wouldn’t that be appropriate his and his betrothed’s colours? He ought to order his manservant to style his hair this and that way, as it would please Heir Kendrick. They touched the fabric of his dress, uncaring that he was inside the dress, and pulled at the skirts to make them fuller. The Slytherin felt like a doll being played by overzealous children.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dreaded dress: www.dolldivine.com/Modified-Dolls/Serena90-3027848

The time had come to wear the dreaded dress. It was a beautiful dress; that was undeniable. The fabric was rich and colourful, the stitching admirable and the structure sound. It was odd how a dress could make dread and anger and fear rise to Draco’s throat. If he had seen this dress in his own time, he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. He would have thought it old-fashioned but beautiful. Here, in the Old Times, as a guest of House Malfoy, weak of magical exhaustion, this dress meant his downfall.

He was being dramatic. It was just a dress. It wasn’t the end of the world to wear a pretty dress. Even if the dress was clearly that of a maiden and Draco had always considered himself a dominant partner. He had been wearing maiden robes for months now; he didn’t understand why the dress was so difficult. That was a lie. He did understand. This dress had been made by Heir Kendrick to entrap him. Draco would go to the feast tonight wearing this dress and it would make Kendrick’s claim clear to every one and it would seem like the time-traveller approved and supported that claim and that was simply not true.

“Lord Draco?” inquired Athils uncertainly; the young servant had been draining the bath.

Draco supposed he painted a strange scene: wearing just a thin robe after his bath and just looking at the dress. He wasn’t really sure what his expression was right now. That was dangerous, he thought absent-mindedly. But he was too tired and too deep in his thoughts and doubts and concerns to try to morph his expression into something more acceptable, something more maidenly and sweet.

“It is a beautiful dress”, he said softly, not knowing what else to say.

His manservant approached him cautiously, “A most magnificent gown, my lord. Heir Malfoy has given you a beautiful gift”

The petite blond smiled bitterly, “Is it? A gift?”

This wasn’t a gift. Draco was a Malfoy, he had plenty of experience with gifts. And this dress wasn’t a gift. Gifts were given by his parents and friends and had no connotations that would doom Draco. This was a trap. A pretty trap that would make his position in the past even more difficult than it already was. It wasn’t as if he truly had a choice, though. A gift such as this couldn’t be refused. He would have to put on the corset that changed his body to Heir Kendrick’s likening and he would have to put on the dress in Heir Kendrick’s colours that would make his claim clear to all.

“My lord?” asked gently Athils.

Draco closed his silver eyes. He was being foolish. Athils wasn’t his friend, he wasn’t loyal to him. It was dangerous to speak such words near him. The manservant was sharp and observant; the time-traveller mustn’t give him any more information that could be used against him. It was just so hard to be surrounded by people everyday. People he couldn’t trust and only spoke wonders of Heir Kendrick. They were trying to manipulate him; Draco wasn’t stupid, he knew. It was still hard and exhausting to have to watch what he said and what he did every second of the day. Having to ponder whether he had been maidenly enough or if he had spoken too fondly of Heir Kendrick or not fondly enough.

“Nonsense, Athils, I was being silly”, he replied, forcing a bright smile on his fair face.

“Are you – are you nervous, Lord Draco?” inquired the manservant, “King Falk is House Malfoy’s ally and has been for a long time. Nothing will go wrong at the feast, my lord”

Athils wasn’t stupid. He had to know that Draco wasn’t nervous about seeing an envoy from another kingdom. And yet, it gave the petite blond an excuse for his anxiety. It was a much more admissible excuse than that of being nervous of wearing his supposedly dear courter’s gift. The Slytherin felt a spark of gratitude for his manservant, even though he knew it was ill advised and Athils’ ultimate loyalty wasn’t to him.

“Of course, I worry about nothing”, he stated with the same tones of his elegant mother, starting to untie his bathrobe.

Although his manservant didn’t seem very convinced, he said nothing and started to help him put on the corset. It felt very odd to feel the corset tighten around his body; he could feel it with every breath he took. Draco swallowed thickly.

“I could loosen it, my lord”, offered quietly Athils.

“No, no, it is supposed to be worn this way. Chaperon Meyers will be displeased if I don’t wear it as it was meant to”, he rejected quickly, this gift had to be worn as Heir Kendrick had envisioned.

It took a while to dress Draco and style his hair, far longer than it did for his maidenly robes. The dark sea green would look uncannily similar to that jewelled forest green of House Malfoy; it would be almost undistinguishable in the dim candlelight of the feast. The only consolation was that the embroidery wasn’t in gold but in white and a light grey. The Slytherin had intended to wear the dress with pearls and white gold. However, his suitor had gifted him with a chain necklace of gold and pearls that ended with a gold pendant with a sizable emerald. He had to roll it twice, so the pendant could be worn as a choker. His fair blond hair had been braided with pearls and tiny emeralds.

He studied the result in the mirror in silence. The maiden in the mirror looked like a Malfoy bride. He seemed fertile with a tiny waist and broad hips. He was beautiful with delicate features well-suited for a maiden. He looked nothing like Draco Malfoy, Heir of House Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was the powerful Heir of an influential House. This maiden in the mirror was beautiful and docile, he looked ready to bond with his warrior and grow with child.

He twisted his gaze away from the mirror; he hoped Heir Kendrick wouldn’t see what he saw. However, the Slytherin knew it would be a futile hope. His suitor had designed this image, had wanted to display him in court looking like this. It seemed like his suitor was growing ever-more impatient. He feared the day the dragon-rider would propose marriage. Draco had truly believed he could lengthen the courtship until he found a way to go back home. Now, he wasn’t so sure. He had only regained half of his magic: enough to not be ill or exhausted, but hardly enough to survive on his own in the wild Old Times and certainly not enough to power a ritual to send him back to the future.

“You look beautiful, my lord”, breathed out Athils, admiration clear in his voice.

Only a few months ago, Draco would have preened at the praise. He remembered how smug he had felt at the disbelief of his beauty when he had left his rooms for the first time. It was bittersweet now. If he hadn’t been so beautiful, he doubted that Heir Kendrick would have pursued him so ardently and forced him into this position. At the same time, he wasn’t sure the dragon rider would have saved him and brought him to Fortress Malfoy had he not been beautiful. Beauty was a blessing and a curse. He had never realised it before, he had been part of a powerful House that protected him from the disadvantages of his beauty.

“Thank you, Athils”, he replied with maidenly modesty as he tried not to think of the stranger in the mirror.

“You are beautiful, my dear maiden”, stated Heir Kendrick, his golden eyes burning in their desire.

Draco gave him a graceful curtsy, even though they were alone in the corridor if not for Athils and such formality was probably not needed. Such courtesies were small things that let Draco cling to the feeling of distance to his suitor. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to deter his suitor who blatantly ignored any display of reluctance on the Slytherin’s part.

“I am glad to please you, my lord”, he replied sweetly.

The dragon rider barked a laugh, “You please me well, my darling. Come, I shall escort you to the feast”

The petite blond took the offered muscular arm, placing his pale hand daintily on his suitor’s green sleeve. He almost didn’t have to consciously think to keep his movements graceful and maidenly. They had only taken a few steps when his suitor abruptly stopped in the middle of the long corridor. The next he knew, his lips were on fire. Draco gasped as he felt the dragon rider passionately possess his mouth. As abruptly as Heir Kendrick had taken possession of him, he wrenched away from him. The Slytherin felt his cheeks heat and his lips felt tender.

“My beautiful maiden”, sighed the green-haired wizard as he caressed his cheek gently, his voice low and rough, “Come, we mustn’t arrive late to the feast”

Draco said nothing, still disoriented. He wasn’t sure whether he had liked or disliked the kiss. It had been too fast and too overwhelming to determine. He hadn’t truly disliked it, he thought. Heir Kendrick’s lips had been warm and his hands on his waist had been even warmer. He did feel warm inside, similar to how flustered he had become upon seeing Heir Kendrick riding his dragon. At the same time, he wasn’t sure of how to feel. Would his suitor expect now to steal more scorching kisses from him? Had he planned that? Was that why his chaperone hadn’t escorted him instead of the dragonrider?

He was so preoccupied in his thoughts that it took him a while to be able to focus again.

“Prince Falk, and this is my betrothed, Maiden Draco”, stated proudly Heir Kendrick.

Betrothed? They weren’t betrothed yet! Was the dragon rider serious or did he just want to establish his claim in front of a foreigner? He glanced at his suitor but the Malfoy was looking directly to Prince Falk. Prince Falk was a wizard of thirty years, with brown hair and green eyes. He was tall and broad like most warriors and sported a scar on his cheek.

“You have been blessed with such a beauty for your betrothed, Prince Kendrick”, replied the smiling wizard.

“Aye, I have”, retorted the dragon rider with a possessive hand placed on the small of Draco’s back.

Indignation dwelled up in the petite blond. They were talking of him as though he wasn’t there. Was his distraction so obvious? Was Prince Falk dismissing him because his lips were swollen? Or was Prince Falk unwilling to speak with him when Kendrick was so obviously staking his claim?

“It is an honour to meet you, Prince Falk. I have heard of your strong alliance with House Malfoy”, greeted him formally Draco.

Prince Falk acknowledged him with a smile but quickly averted his eyes from the petite maiden and focused on speaking with Heir Kendrick. The rest of the night progressed in much the same fashion: no one wished to speak with Draco who was clearly to be a Malfoy yet he wasn’t bonded. Nobody wished for the dragon rider to think they were attacking his claim. So no one spoke to Draco and the Slytherin was paraded in his suitor’s arm, still confused of what had happened in the corridor. He was now sure that Heir Kendrick had planned to escort him and had dismissed his chaperone for the night. It was troublesome that his chaperone would follow his suitor’s orders.

“Father, doesn’t this colouring suit Maiden Draco?” inquired his suitor purposefully.

The Slytherin’s heart jumped at his chest at the question. Heir Kendrick was quite brazen, asking whether his colours suited him to his Patriarch. It could be seen as the equivalent of requesting his father’s blessing on his courtship of Draco. Ragnvaldr’s lips tightened at the question. Duke Malfoy stopped eating and contemplated Draco. The time-traveller didn’t know what would be worse: the Duke saying that the colours didn’t become him or saying they did. Denying that the colours suited the Slytherin would be a clear sign of disapproval of Draco. He didn’t know what that could lead. Whereas if the Duke said the colours suited the maiden, he would be giving his approval to their marriage.

“Indeed, green favours Maiden Draco”, stated clearly the century-old dragon rider, his serpentine golden eyes still fixed on the petite blond.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The transition of the scenes is so choppy because I wanted to show how disoriented and deep in his doubts Draco is. Tell me if it works or makes it hard to follow :)


	13. Chapter 13

His lips were on fire and his head was in the clouds. Draco gave a choked moan, suddenly finding himself in his suitor’s arms. Heir Kendrick passionately possessed his inviting lips and quickly invaded his sweet mouth. The petite Slytherin’s silver eyes closed and his hands tightened their hold on the dragon rider’s shoulders. This was pleasure and danger and fire all in one. The blond Slytherin didn’t have any experience in the arts of pleasure, having only kissed Pansy a couple of times. But those had been the timid kisses of pureblood and sheltered fourteen-year-olds; it had certainly not been anything like this. This was entrancing and bewitching like nothing else he had experienced. The passionate attack took him by surprise and the titillation of his suitor’s actions made him forget of how unwise enjoying the Heir’s attentions was.

A noise must have tipped the powerful warrior to stop, for as suddenly as he had taken hold of Draco, the older Malfoy stepped away. The young time-traveller opened his eyes and stared up to his suitor. Kendrick’s golden eyes were still dark with passion and were fixed on his lips. In that moment, the Slytherin beauty could almost see himself joined in marriage to Heir Malfoy, staying in the past and bearing his children. However, that moment was utterly shattered.

“Nephew”, sneered Lord Ragnvaldr, “It is most unbecoming of House Malfoy to canoodle in such a manner with Maiden Draco”

Duke Malfoy’s brother was standing there in the gardens, his serpentine golden eyes narrowed at them with disapproval. His magic was slightly flared around him, indicating just how much he disapproved of the situation. He was as powerful as Duke Malfoy, realised abruptly Draco, even though he wasn’t as old. There must have been at least twenty years in difference between Duke Malfoy and his half-brother. Despite the age difference, the younger brother was still the most trusted advisor.

And Lord Ragnvaldr had found Draco letting himself be ravaged by his suitor, the young Slytherin lowered his eyes to the floor submissively, feeling his cheeks blush in mortification. How could he have let Heir Kendrick kiss him so inappropriately? He didn’t even want to marry the dragon rider! And yet he had let the older wizard possess him. He was supposed to be a dominant, not a maiden and yet he had melted into the green-haired Malfoy’s embrace.

If his father could see him know, as Lord of House Malfoy, he would punish Draco quite harshly for putting his virtue and reputation in jeopardy. The preferred marriage rituals of British dark purebloods required virginity for them to work, he would be ostracised at home at the very least if he had been surprised in such position. They would assume that if he behaved in such a manner in public, what would he have done in behind closed doors?

“Uncle”, greeted icily cold Heir Kendrick, “I have not breached any courting rules, our chaperon is merely a few feet away and would surely stop us before it could escalate. I merely kissed my beautiful maiden”

The tension between nephew and uncle had increased since the last time Draco had observed an interaction. The evidence of the damaged relationship made his stomach heavy with guilt even though, he technically had done no wrong. Still, he knew he was the cause of the declining and rapidly growing antagonistic relationship between the uncle and nephew.

“Chaperon Meyers allows you too many liberties”, replied coldly the Duke’s advisor, “At this rate, Maiden Draco won’t remain a maiden for too long”

The time-traveller’s lips parted in astonishment at the insult to his virtue. He wished he could indignation and outrage. However, his shame only growing as he recalled how easily he had fallen into Heir Kendrick’s arms, would he have had enough mind to stop the dragon rider? He thought he would have, and yet he wasn’t completely sure. And hadn’t he behaved most unseemly with his suitor? Especially considering that he had no intention of marrying said suitor. His only desire was to go back to his time and, still he allowed Kendrick to kiss him and hold him against him.

He was brought out of his admonishing thoughts at Heir Kendrick’s body trembling in fury, his magic cracking dangerously around him. The young Malfoy bit his lower lip hesitantly as the golden eyes flashed in outrage.

“You dare!?” bellowed angrily Kendrick taking a step forward towards his uncle threateningly.

No! This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t cause a duel between uncle and nephew. This simply couldn’t do. It would weaken House Malfoy too much to be faced with such inner house drama. And everyone in court would hate him for his virtue would have been the cause of the duel. If he had regained his strength and could go back to his time, it would be no trouble. As it was, he was still too weak for such a thing. Furthermore, gossip on his virtue would only encourage Heir Kendrick to propose to put a stop to rumours. He still had no plan to avoid such marriage; therefore this duel couldn’t take place.

He took hold of the warrior’s elbow gently, “Heir Kendrick, while Lord Ragnvaldr exaggerates, it is true that we behaved most inappropriately”, he blushed darkly, “Such things are for marriage and not before”, he couldn’t elaborate more, too embarrassed.

“Hush, Draco, we merely kissed, it is nothing that has never happened between courting couples”, replied the dragon rider, thankfully there was amusement in his voice.

It was true that courting couples sneaked kissed. However, the Slytherin was sure that their kisses weren’t of such intensity. This was closer to snogging than to kissing, after all.

“It would be”, the petite blond hesitated at his choice of words, “wise not to do so again”

Kendrick looked ready to speak, his handsome face full now of merriment at what he saw as his betrothed’s naiveté. It was slightly condescending on his suitor’s side, decided Draco, feeling irritation grow in his chest even though he still felt embarrassed at the events of the day.

“Excellent”, stated Lord Ragnvaldr coldly, “Now that proper courting behaviour is clear, your presence is required in the war room, Kendrick”

At the mention of the war room, the dragon rider’s face lost all its good humour and he nodded sharply. Draco felt worry pool at his heart at the sight. Was there to be war? Had House Malfoy’s enemies learnt of their internal divide and decided to fight the dragons? He bit his lower lip at the thought. At least, thanks to his extensive private tutoring he knew that his presence in the past had created an alternative time line. So even if House Malfoy fell (which was incredibly unlikely, he reminded himself), if he returned to his own timeline, his family would be still alive and well. The thought of war still made him uncomfortable.

“My beautiful maiden, I enjoy every moment in your company, alas duty calls me away”, stated gallantly Heir Kendrick, kissing the back of his hand.

“Of course, Heir Kendrick”, he replied at a loss of what to say.

The dragon rider then turned around and followed his uncle out of the gardens at a brisk pace. Their very demeanour indicated trouble. It was unlikely that any House could rival House Malfoy with its powerful dragons, impervious to almost all magicks. By this time, none of the spells and charms dragon keepers used had been invented. That would be only a few centuries before Draco’s original time. Therefore it was improbable to say the least, that the Malfoys would be defeated. And the blond time-traveller wished fervently for the Malfoys to remain undefeated, for he was far from being recovered from his magic drainage.

“Maiden Draco, I believe it is time to return to the embroidery circle”, announced Chaperone Meyers from behind him.

The thought of the embroidery circle only filled him with dread. Even though he had to be attentive to dissuade the other maidens from the matchmaking with Heir Kendrick, the embroidery circle remained painfully boring. Most of the maidens either were or feigned being vapid and simple. And after receiving the dragon rider’s dress as a gift and wearing it, he had been repeatedly encouraged to embroider a shirt for his betrothed. Because apparently, wearing the gifted dress, had made all notions of the courtship not ending in betrothal ridiculous.

Still, Draco stretched his lips in a courteous smile and said, “Of course”

It would be later, that night, when he was bathing that he would make further inquiries on the matter of the war council. He had made some insinuations in the embroidery circle, yet it had been clear that his fellow maidens didn’t know anything about it for they hadn’t even twitched at his veiled insinuations. His manservant, Athils, was usually better informed even if he didn’t share all with Draco. Still, the young servant was a spy for the Malfoys so he would for sure bring up their encounter.

“How did your afternoon with Heir Kendrick proceed, Maiden Draco?” asked curiously the young wizard as he washed the time-traveller’s fair hair.

The Slytherin blushed upon remembering those ardent lips, “He was very… enthusiastic. Too much so, my Father would never approve”

The thirteen-year-old laughed merrily, “Most sires would react similarly. But it was… pleasant?”

“Athils!” exclaimed scandalised the young pureblood, sitting up in the bath.

“I’ll take that as a yes, Maiden Draco”, replied cheekily the brown-haired manservant.

“Lord Ragnvaldr arrived and was most displeased. He said- well, it matters not what he said. But Heir Kendrick was angry. They seem to be fighting”, he timidly said, the first time he had ever acknowledged the feud between uncle and nephew, yet it had reached a point that even the most wilfully blind could not ignore.

Athils remained silent for a few seconds, “Lord Ragnvaldr is hesitant in regards to Heir Kendrick’s courtship of you. It is nothing you have done, Maiden Draco, he is just wary of foreigners”

It certainly didn’t help that Draco had somehow appeared in Malfoy territory and that he possessed a bewitching beauty. The thought was bitter in his mouth and the petite blond sighed. He considered asking about Duke Malfoy’s true position on the matter. Nevertheless, Athils had used the term “hesitant” to describe Lord Ragnvaldr’s evident disapproval and anger, he doubted the spy would be honest about his liege’s opinion. He probably knew, though. It made Draco suddenly desirous of trying Legilimency. However, unlike with Occlumency, he had only started the basics with his Aunt Bellatrix before leaving his timeline. Athils would surely notice.

“So I am the cause of their strife”, he concluded sadly, “is this union truly wise?”

It was too good an opportunity not to bring up doubts about the match. His uncle’s rejection was obviously not enough to reconsider the match for Heir Kendrick, so his own doubts on the matter wouldn’t truly impact the match. Still, he wasn’t sure if Athils was a spy for a specific Malfoy. As such, it was better to verge on caution. If he was a spy for Duke Malfoy, his doubts would hopefully reach his ears. Furthermore, it would not be wise to act as though the conflict didn’t disturb him. That would only make him look either as a self-absorbed selfish maiden or as cunning spy sowing dissent in powerful House Malfoy.

The young manservant quickly retorted, “It is natural now that Heir Kendrick has more power and influence as Heir, that there would be more friction between nephew and uncle”

“Heir Kendrick was called away for a war council… is there a conflict?” he questioned, his voice low and worried.

The manservant gave him a gentle smile, “There was trouble with King Pridham, but his kingdom is smaller than House Malfoy’s and what can he do against dragons? House Malfoy has a very powerful military force. Although King Pridham is difficult, he has not choice but to relent”

“Why is King Pridham causing trouble?” he asked stepping out of the bath carefully.

Athils enveloped him in the towel and started to dry him off, “Nothing important, poaching”

The answer was a lie. Draco had spent most of his time with his manservant for months. He knew he couldn’t discern prepared lies; Athils was too good a liar for that. Nonetheless, this lie had been unplanned as his questions had been unexpected. Apparently, King Pridham had a quarrel with House Malfoy and House Malfoy preferred he not know the details. It only made him more curious over what it could possibly be.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have added in the notes of the last couple of chapters the outfits that Draco has been wearing, even though the doll is obviously a woman so its just an approximate idea. Tell me if you enjoy the visuals :)
> 
> For this chapter its this one: www.dolldivine.com/Modified-Dolls/Serena90-3027853

Draco stared anxiously at the odd silver instrument. It was like a small tower with seven pillars and a round blue ball in the centre and several thin strands curling and uniting the pillars. It was supposed to measure the young Slytherin’s magic. So far the results had been most unsatisfactory. His magic recovered slowly albeit surely. He hoped that this time the result would be good enough to be able to cast magic. He missed magic fiercely. He would start doing a small unconscious spell, like he had done through his entire life, his warm magic coursing through his veins and rushing to satisfy his request. And then he would remember he wasn’t supposed to do so and that his recovery relied on his not using his magic. He would have to stop the flow of warm, welcoming magic. It was terrible.

Healer Reid studied the instrument intently, focused on the minute changed in the blue ball. So far, Draco had guessed that she studied the intensity of the light in the blue ball and the change of shade. The light seemed a bit stronger than last week’s. He glanced at the Healer’s expression trying to discern whether it was good enough.

The kind witch straightened with a small smile, “It seems that you have recovered enough to cast small spells, Maiden Draco”

The young pureblood couldn’t stop the wide beam on his fair face at the great news, “Finally, I can do some magic!”

“With care, Maiden Draco. I don’t want you pouring all your magic into your embroidery! No more than a shift a day, young maiden!” warned the Healer sternly, putting away her odd instruments.

Draco wisely didn’t comment on how he didn’t even know how to pour his magic into his embroidery. As the magic in this time was more unrefined and most people didn’t have focuses such as a wand, warriors created broad attacks with their magic and maidens poured their magic into their embroidery. Apparently, it wasn’t unusual at all, to find a baby shift with every single inch covered in embroidery with magic infused protection intent. It gave the embroidery sessions a new light, but they still had been incredibly boring for Draco, who couldn’t use his magic at all. Still he wondered what would happen if he embroidered runes _and_ infused them with magic. The spell would be far more direct that the vague intent of magic woven into the cloth.

The beautiful time-traveller nodded obediently, “Of course, Healer Reid, I shall behave”

The seventy-six year-old witch chuckled amused at his angelical expression, “Do be careful, young maiden, I have no wish for a setback in your recovery. Besides, Heir Malfoy is most anxiously awaiting for news of you improvement”

The smile remained on the Slytherin’s face with much more effort than it looked. He had been relying on his recovery of magic exhaustion to postpone walks with his suitor, doing his best to slow down the courting that was going too fast for him. He thought that Kendrick knew what he was up to. It hadn’t been too discreet. However, Heir Kendrick had introduced him to Prince Falk as his betrothed, even though Draco hadn’t been proposed to and had most certainly not accepted such proposal.

The dragon-rider had noticed his displeasure, for once, and had tried to ply him with gifts of expensive jewellery in emeralds and pearls. As though giving him gifts in House Malfoy’s colours made it any better. Heir Kendrick had even gifted him with several yards of the sea green fabric that his gown had been made of. Staking his claim and apologizing at the same time, the powerful heir must have thought himself very canny.

“Yes, he shall be glad at the news”, he chirped as expected cordially.

“Well, then, I shall take my leave, Maiden Draco. I shall see you next week at the same time to measure your magic’s state. Remember not to overdo it, even if it’s tempting after so long without magic”, stated the Healer as she gave her coffret to her apprentice.

“Thank you for your time, Healer Reid. Good bye, Colby”, he told them kindly, ignoring the deep blush of the apprentice healer at his kind smile.

He sat down on his chair with a sigh. He was uncertain on what to do. On one hand, his magic exhaustion played in his favour delaying the possible wedding between Heir Kendrick and him. On the other hand, he needed his magic to go back to his time. He studied the scene of a forest in the thick tapestry in front of him absent-mindedly. Before the dragon-rider’s bold move, offering the heart of the hippogriff, he had planned to go through a ritual to increase his magic reserves as soon as he had enough magic to do so. That said, he didn’t want the reports of his increased magic to go to Heir Kendrick. It was quite the conundrum.

It was hard to make an impartial decision because he missed his magic like a limb. He missed using his magic thoughtlessly, straightening his robe or moving the dish or casting away a spot of dirt. Simple things he had never even thought on. They were so simple to him that he didn’t even need the use of a wand to do so. He wanted to get his magic back, but he couldn’t speed up his recovery until he had a plan to get back home.

He had analysed his original ritual, which was supposed to grant him memories and ended up sending him to the past. There was nothing wrong with the ritual. It had been Malfoy Fortress itself that had changed the ritual and caused his little time-travelling adventure. He was wary of what would happen when he tried to go back to his time, would the fortress even let him? For safety, he would have to go to a place with high ambient magic. However, he needed familiar magic such as the magic of Malfoy Fortress. He was unsure of what to do.

Furthermore, he still hadn’t achieved his mission: he knew nothing of the warrior ways of House Malfoy of this time. He didn’t know how they mastered the dragons or what spells they used in war. That might change since there had been a war council. He mused thoughtfully. He still hadn’t discovered why there had been a war council. There was a conflict with House Pridham, a smaller kingdom nearby. Nonetheless, no one could tell him why exactly there was a conflict or how had the relationship between the two kingdoms developed through the past years. Everyone seemed to avoid the subject of House Pridham with him and it wasn’t because they believed Draco to be a spy.

“Maiden Draco”, called Athils, knocking on the door to his bedchamber and coming inside quickly, “Heir Kendrick is calling upon you. I believe he wished to walk with you”

The blond Slytherin pursed his lips, “Chaperone Anne isn’t here yet”

His young manservant seemed bewildered, “It is for a walk in the gardens, you would be in full view of other walkers”

“There was an… unpleasantness last time I walked through the gardens with Heir Kendrick. I don’t want for there to be any doubt of my virtue. Please call Chaperone Anne and let Heir Kendrick wait by the door”, he instructed serenely.

Athils, the good eavesdropper that he was, probably knew of the awful encounter with Lord Ragnvaldr who had accused Draco of being loose. He looked reluctant, but nodded dutifully and went to inform Heir Kendrick that he was going to fetch the chaperone and to wait at the door. It must be quite nerve-wrecking for a manservant like Athils to tell the Heir to the Dukedom to wait by the door.

He stood up and studied himself in the mirror: a robe in his House’s colours that he had lightly modified to look more maidenly, with long and large sleeves and a tightened waist. His braided bun was overly complicated and uncomfortable for his taste and it had taken quite long for even skilled Athils to make it. He did look more gentle and sweet than he would look in his usual outfits, but it wasn’t the unrecognizable maiden in green from the last feast. Still, he now adopted the sweet submissive expression more naturedly and his movements were more maidenly graceful than before without him consciously putting in the effort. No one would doubt that Draco was a beautiful maiden. He wondered what his father would think upon seeing him in such a manner. Probably despair at the sight of his only heir in maiden clothes.

It didn’t take long for chaperone Anne to arrive, her cheeks were red and she was lightly panting as dignified as she could, “Letting Heir Kendrick wait, what were you thinking boy? That is no way to treat a suitor!” berated him the chaperone sternly.

It was the first time his chaperone had been so clearly Heir Kendrick’s creature. He wondered whether Lord Ragnvaldr knew that the chaperone he had chosen was already under the younger dragon-rider’s orders. Probably after the display of last time, he knew. Although mayhaps Lord Ragnvaldr had told her to encourage Draco to ruin his reputation in order to be unsuitable for the young heir. However, it was likelier that would just make Heir Kendrick demand a quick secret wedding than discourage him.

“I won’t put my reputation at risk. I have already misbehaved too much. My father would kill me if he knew that I had let Heir Kendrick kiss me like he did on our last walk”, he replied dignifiedly, trying to sound as firm and gentle as his own mother did when giving orders to her subordinates.

The tall chaperone looked at him surprised. She knew him as this timid and sweet maiden; it was quite like him to reply so surely. Still he sounded like the consort of a great lord, which he would become in little time if one looked at Heir Kendrick’s impatient demeanour. Nevertheless, her surprise didn’t last long and soon she was rushing him out the door of his chambers.

“You look as beautiful as always, my dear”, greeted him gallantly Heir Kendrick.

The young Heir was still dressed in his leathers for dragon riding, supporting the thought that he must have been scouting for threats to their kingdom. It seemed like the conflict with House Pridham was escalating quite quickly. He felt a spark of fear at the thought of war, remembering Malfoy manor invaded by their supposed allies. Still, Malfoy Fortress would probably be untouched by the war even if it came to that. It was strong in defences and magic and the centre of dragon territory, only a madman would try to attack it.

And yet, if Kendrick died what would happen to him? Despite its unlikeliness, his position if Kendrick fell in battle would be quite precarious. Lord Ragnvaldr hated him believing he was some sort of seducer with evil intent and he was still unsure of Duke Malfoy’s position. The Duke seemed amenable enough to him, but mayhaps he believed he was a passing fancy and if not, chances were he would die in less than a year in childbirth.

“Thank you, my lord, you look quite fit as well. Have you just been riding Hillevi?” he asked lightly as he deposited his dainty hand on the offered elbow.

“Yes, it was quite a good ride. There’s nothing like the fresh air of the morn”, commented the dragon-rider gaily.

“You have been exercising with her more lately”, observed Draco as they walked through the corridors with the chaperone following them.

Kendrick nodded towards one of the guards, whose armour indicated a higher rank than the usual guards inside the castle, “Is that so? I couldn’t say”

The young Slytherin glanced at his companion and opted for a more direct approach, “There is been talk of conflict with House Pridham”

“House Pridham?” questioned the older wizard, his voice hardening, “And what have they told you of House Pridham?”

His stomach fell heavy. Heir Kendrick’s expression was quite tense. There was something about House Pridham the dark haired wizard didn’t want him to know. It made worry bubble up in Draco’s stomach, for why would Kendrick be so strained if it didn’t concern Draco?

“Oh, not much, I am afraid. Only that there’s been some trouble with poaching? Apparently, their hunters are encroaching into the game of your kingdom and the conflict seems to be escalating”, replied Draco trying to seem untroubled and indifferent.

The dragon-rider’s shoulders relaxed minutely and he gave the petite blond a broad smile, “Who has been filling your ears with such nonsense, my dear? There’s no trouble, everything will be solved easily”

“Of course, my lord, they can’t stand to the might of your dragons, I was merely curious”, responded genially the young time-traveller with a false smile.


End file.
